LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



HJ.T3 l— £c?<$ 

UNITED STATES OP AMERICA. { 



yip- - ' v '7 




) 

TREATISE ON THEISM, 



AND ON THE 



MODERN SKEPTICAL THEORIES. 



BY 

FRANCIS WHARTON, 

AUTHOR OP "A TREATISE ON AMERICAN CRIMINAL LAW;" "A TREATISE ON THE AMERICAN 
LAW OF HOMICIDE;" "A TREATISE ON MEDICAL JURISPRUDENCE;" "STATE 
TRIALS OF THE UNITED STATES." ETC.; AND PROFESSOR 
IN KENTON COLLEGE, OHIO, 



PHILADELPHIA: 

J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO. 

TRUBNER & CO., LONDON. 

1859. 



*$ 



Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1S59, by 

J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO., 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Eastern District 
of Pennsylvania. 



L C contro. 




tmi 



PREFACE. 



My object, in the preparation of the following work, has been 
to present the theistic argument, and the replies to the prominent 
modern skeptical theories, in such a shape as the best to impress 
the American mind of the present day. I have sought to reach 
this object in three ways: — First, by selecting from the vast 
material before me such main topics as seem most likely to affect 
those whom I address ; second, by relying almost exclusively 
on this country as the basis for induction and illustration ; and, 
third, by reducing the argument to such an analysis as will best 
subserve the purposes of students. 

F. W. 

Gambier, Ohio, April, 1859. 



ANALYTICAL TABLE. 



BOOK I. 

EVIDENCE OF THE EXISTENCE AND CHARACTER 
OF GOD. 

CHAPTER I. 

FROM CONSCIENCE. 

PAGE 

a. The existence of God as a lawgiver inferred from the ex- 

istence of conscience. , 13 

a 1 . From conscience as to self, \\ 13 

b l . From conscience as to others, §3 15 

c 1 . From conscience as to abstract right and wrong, \ 4 16 

b. The existence of God as an unconditioned executive, punish- 

ing the violators of His law, inferred from the qualities of 

conscience t 16 

a 1 . From its action 16 

a 2 . Incessant, §5 16 

b 2 . Unconditioned by time, § 7 18 

c 2 Unconditioned by matter, g 12 25 

a 3 . From the nature of conscience itself, § 13 25 

b 3 . From analogy 25 

a 4 . Recalled impressions, \ 14 25 

6 4 . Dreaming, § 15 26 

c\ Insanity, §16 28 

d\ Comatose state, § 17 28 

e± Lust, § 21 33 

b 1 . From the spiritual consequences of a violation of con- 
science, e.g. remorse, $22 35 

c 1 . From the physical consequences of a violation of con- 
science, $26 42 , 

1* 5 



ANALYTICAL TABLE. 



CHAPTER II. 

FROM MIND. 

PAGE 

a. The nature of mind, §29 47 

b. The cause of mind, § 30 48 

CHAPTER III. 

FROM THE EXISTENCE OF LAW IN THE UNIVERSE. 

a. Unity and harmony of pattern, §32 51 

b. Union of harmony in general laws, with special adaptations 

of details, § 35 56 

CHAPTER IV. 

FROM MATTER. 

a. Universal belief in some eternal existence, § 41 64 

b. The atheist's eternity equally objectionable with the the- 

ist's, §42 64 

c. Incomprehensibility of eternity not conclusive, § 43 65 

d. Desolateness of a godless universe, § 44 66 

CHAPTER V. 

FROM DESIGN IN NATURE. 

a. The ocean 70 

a\ The sea-breeze, § 46 70 

ft 1 . The ocean salts, §47 70 

c 1 . The Gulf-Stream, §49 73 

b. Climate >. 80 

a 1 . Its alternations as producing contentment and patriot- 
ism, §52 80 

b 1 . As producing home virtues, §53 81 

c 1 . As necessitating labor, §55 87 

d 1 . As generating energy, patience, and sense of the beauti- 
ful, § 56 89 

c. Watering the earth, §60 93 

d. Soil, §68 105 

e. Fuel, §70 108 

CHAPTER VI. 

FROM THE PROGRESS OF SOCIETY. 

a. Arts and sciences, §72 113 

b. Reproduction, § 74 115 

c. Written history, §75 115 






ANALYTICAL TABLE. 



CHAPTER VII. 

FROM GEOLOGY. 



PAGE 

a. Anterior uninhabitability of the earth, §77 118 

b. Subsequent creation of specific forms of life 119 

a\ Man, §78 119 

5 1 . Inferior animals, §79 120 

CHAPTER VIII. 

THE RELATIONS OE GOD AND MAN AS DETERMINED BY NATURAL 
THEOLOGY. 

a. Propositions established in the preceding chapters, §85 131 

a 1 . That there is an all-powerful God -who seeks the plea- 
sure of His creatures, § 85 181 

b 1 . That this God is sovereign, directing everything by His 

will, §85 131 

c 1 . That He governs by general laws, § 85 131 

d 1 . That besides this He has placed in each breast a moral 
tribunal, armed with powerful sanctions, for the pur- 
pose of directing right and prohibiting wrong, § 85.... 131 

b. Propositions apparently contradictory induced from the same 

phenomena, § 86 : 131 

a 1 . That what appear gratuitous pain and sorrow are often 

inflicted on the animal creation, §86 131 

b 1 . That man is endowed with freedom of will and action, 
which, however, he frequently perverts to his own 

ruin, § 86 131 

c 1 . That human conduct is to a great degree affected by 
what are called "accidents," i.e. events not to be ac- 
counted for by any general law, §86 131 

c. Reconciliation of these apparent contradictions, § 87 132 

a 1 . The attempt to reconcile them by the hypothesis of an 

imperfect Creator illogical, § 87 132 

b 1 . They may be reconciled, however, by the following as- 
sumptions, § 91 134 

a 2 . Man is in a state of exile from God, § 91 134 

b 2 . The human heart, so far from maintaining a com- 
munion with God, is more and more inclined to 
place its affections on things earthly, § 97 142 



ANALYTICAL TABLE. 

PAGE 

c 2 . There is a future retribution which demands that the 
free agency of those subject to it should remain 
unimpaired, while there are such general influ- 
ences about them as will promote patience, sub- 
mission, and earnest endeavor, § 98 "... 143 

d 2 These disciplinary influences, however, are insuffi- 
cient without special Divine aid, £ 99 144 

e 2 . A written revelation as a final educationary pro- 
cess, is a priori probable under such a dispen- 
sation, §100 145 



BOOK II. 
SKEPTICAL THEORIES. 

CHAPTER I. 

"AN IMPERFECT CREATOR." 

a. Inability of the finite to measure, \ 102 152 

b. Incapacity of the infinite for measurement, \ 105 156 

c. Supposing, however, apparently irreconcilable contradictions 

and imperfections exist, § 108 161 

a 1 . They cannot overcome the positive evidence of Almighty 

wisdom and goodness, §108 161 

6 1 . They are reconcilable with the Divine perfections, \ 109, 162 

a 2 . As necessary to moral agency, § 110 163 

b 2 . As ordained of God, as forming part of a scheme of 

all others the best and most perfect, § 110 163 

a 3 . Necessitarian view of moral evil, § 113 168 

Objections : 

a 4 . It renders human exertion useless, § 115.... 172 

b*. It enthralls God himself, § 115 172 

b z . Libertarian view of moral evil, \ 119 178 

Objections : 

a 4 . It still traces sin to God, § 121 180 

b*. It sequestrates omnipotence, § 122 181 

c 4 . It aggravates man's impotence, § 123 181 

d i . It conflicts with consciousness, § 123 182 



ANALYTICAL TABLE. 9 

PAGE 

c s . Present approximation of the two schools, 

§ 128......... 186 

d . The mere fact of the apparent opposition of the 
truths of Divine sovereignty and of human 
responsibility, does not justify the rejection 

of either the one or the other, § 132 « 192 

e 3 . Incidental moral consequences of evil, § 133... 196 
e 2 . As the necessary incidents of limited creatures, 

§ 135 198 

a % . By a graduated scale there is room for the exer- 
cise of charity and an interchange of favors, 

\ 136 199 

b 3 . By such a scale the earth will be more 
thoroughly populated and human comfort 

best promoted, § 138 201 

c 3 . By such a scale a stimulus is afforded for enter- 
prise and room for improvement, § 140 203 

d 3 . What may to the human eye be a lower and in- 
ferior scale of happiness, may to a higher 

vision occupy a reversed position, § 143 205 

. The defects and evils complained of are in many cases 

productive of positive good, §145..... 208 

a 2 . Sorrow, § 145 208 

b\ Pain, §148 212 

a 3 . It preserves identity, § 148 212 

b 3 . It defends life, §152 215 

c 3 . It economizes strength, § 154 216 

d 3 . It is essential to the experience of pleasure, 

§157 219 

c 2 . Death, §159 222 

a 3 . In its existence, §159 222 

b 3 . In its manner, § 166 230 

a 4 . Its unexpectedness, §166 230 

6*. Its shape, § 168 234 

They are the incidents of an intermediate stage in a 
series of progressive advances from chaos to final per- 
fection, § 173 238 



10 ANALYTICAL TABLE. 



CHAPTER II. 

POSITIVISM. 

PAGE 

a. In what Positivism consists, §174 241 

b. By what it is sustained, §181 252 

a 1 . Historical induction, §182 252 

Objections : 

a 2 . There is no evidence of primary Fetichism, § 186... 257 
b 2 . The character of human development affords a pre- 
sumption against Fetichism, § 194 266 

c 2 . Fetich-worship, such as it is claimed to be, exists at 
the present day among people with whom poly- 
theism or pantheism once prevailed, § 195 267 

d 2 . Theology, Metaphysics, and Positivism, are often 

coincident, §197 269 

e 2 . Fetichism, as it is called, is cotemporary, in non- 
Christian countries, with high metaphysical and 

artistic culture, §200 276 

b 1 . Personal experience, §203 280 

Objections : 

a 2 . Psychological, §203 280 

b 2 . Statistical, § 207 284 

c 1 . Organic structure, §208 289 

Objections : 

a 2 . The phrenological analogy is a mere hypothesis, 

§209 290 

b 2 . The analogy is not sustained by biology, § 210 290 

c 2 . The argument proves too much, § 211 291 

r. General considerations by which Positivism is to be met, § 212, 291 
a 1 . The pushing back of first causes strengthens rather than 

weakens the theistic argument, §212 291 

6 1 . No materials exist from which a system of positive laws, 
as forming a Divine system of government, may be in- 
ferred, § 213 292 

c 1 The subordination of human conduct to absolute law is 

destructive of individuality, §216'. 296 

d 1 . The religious sanctions of Positivism are inadequate, 

§220 303 

a 2 . In what these sanctions consist, § 220 303 

ft 2 . Their inadequacy, §222 812 



ANALYTICAL TABLE. 11 

PAGE 

a 3 . In destroying human liberty, § 222.... 312 

b 3 . They substitute, for a faith which, if false, is 
believed to be real, one which, if real, is be- 
lieved to be false, §223 313 

c 3 . They dwarf the human by degrading the di- 
vine, §224 314 

d 3 . They establish an absolute hierarchy, of all 
forms of government the most injurious, 

§225 314 

d. Positivism as modified by Mr. Buckle, §226... 315 

CHAPTER III. 

FATALISM. 

a. A priori probability that the system which an all-wise and 
all-powerful Governor would adopt for the moral educa- 
tion of creatures under probation, would be a mixed one 
of general laws and special adaptations, § 280, (see ante, 

§ 30-33) 330 

a 1 . Proof of a special providence from God's constancy and 

dignity, § 234 335 

b\ Proof of a special providence from God's fatherhood, § 235, 336 

c 1 . Man's universal sense, § 236 337 

d 1 . Analogy of answer to prayer, which may be taken as an 
extreme case of special providence, with other recog- 
nized effective agencies, § 237 338 

e 1 . Hypotheses on which a special providence can be ex- 
plained, §238 339 

a 2 . By the assumption of a law based on angelic 

agency, §238 340 

b 2 . By the prearrangement of the laws of nature, § 239, 342 
c 2 . By a special connection between prayer and result 

as between cause and effect, § 240 345 

d 2 . By pushing up the principle which governs the re- 
sults of prayer until it passes above the bound- 
ary by which human observation is limited, § 241, 346 

CHAPTER IV. 

PANTHEISM. 

a. In what it consists, §.250 362 

a\ Material, §250... 362 

b\ Ideal, §251 363 



12 ANALYTICAL TABLE. 

PAGE 

b. Objections to it, §252 866 

a 1 . Its hopelessness, §252 366 

b l . Its comfortlessness, g 254 '.«. 367 

c 1 . Its repugnance to common sense, §254 368 

d 1 . It destroys belief, not merely in a God, but in tlie practi- 
cal sequences of nature, and therefore generates habits, 
not of energy and perseverance, but of dreamy mysti- 
cism and inaction, § 255 368 

e l . It apotheosizes vice as "well as virtue, § 256 369 

f x . It is inconsistent "with the marks of purpose and con- 
trivance which we meet with throughout the uni- 
verse, §259 372 

<j l It involves the absurdity and the self-contradiction of in- 
telligence generated by matter, bringing us back again 
to a first cause, "which differs from that of the theist, 
in that while the one makes God create matter, the 
other makes matter create God, $260 373 

CHAPTER V. 

DEVELOPMENT. 

a. In what the development theory consists, § 261 374 

a 1 . Cosmical, g 261 374 

b 1 . Organic, § 268 381 

L. General propositions by which this theory can be met, § 275, 390 

a 1 . No progressive cosmical development, § 275 390 

b 1 . Premeditation preceded creation, $276 390 

c 1 . New forms of life introduced at distinct periods, § 278.... 390 

d 1 . Advance sometimes broken by retrogression, §278 390 

e l . The rudimental atoms themselves prove contrivance, 

§279 391 

f l . Creative care presumes preserving providence, § 280 392 

g 1 . Physical forces, involving an intelligent director have at 

distinct eras disturbed the globe, §281 392 

h 1 . Distinct creations exhibit reciprocal adaptations, §282... 392 

P. Development makes " matter" create "mind," §283 393 

k\ It still leaves a first cause, §284 393 



BOOK FIRST. 

EVIDENCE OF THE EXISTENCE AND 
CHARACTER OF COD. 



CHAPTEK I. 

CONSCIENCE. 
a. The existence of god as a lawgiver inferred 

FROM THE EXISTENCE OF CONSCIENCE. 

§ 1. a 1 . From conscience as to self. 

Let us suppose a stranger from some distant land to be 
dropped down at dusk on the suburbs of one of our great 
cities. On the unfenced commons where he alights he ob- 
serves pathways, at first slight and ungraded, gradually ex- 
panding into paved and leveled streets, and lights, begin- 
ning with the old-fashioned and dim lamp, and brightening, 
as the city limits open, into the frequent and brilliant gas. 
He sees many places of danger, it is true, but he finds a cor- 
responding number of guards. At one point he hears the' 
snort of a locomotive dashing across the horizon, but pre- 
cisely as there is a danger to human life from its approach, 
§ 1 2 (13) 



14 CONSCIENCE PROVING GOD. § 2 

are precautions taken to make that danger less. By the 
country road a sign-post is planted. As the road draws 
nearer to the city, a sentry-box is placed at the juncture, by 
which a watchman is stationed to give warning whenever a 
train is due. So it is with respect to other dangers. In the 
fields or in the remote and sparse suburbs, a few constables 
are enough to keep the peace. But in the midst of the 
dense population which crowd toward the centre, the number 
of gilt stars and printed badges show that the precautions 
are multiplied as the dangers increase. That quiet, unoffi- 
cial-looking man, who may be lounging listlessly at one mo- 
ment in the lobby, or at another looking intently at the stage, 
is a special policeman, commissioned to be ready to spring 
forward at the first alarm to extinguish those sparks which 
the inflammable material collected at a theatre are so apt 
to kindle into a conflagration. Guards are stationed at 
the outside of a mock-auction store, cautioning the unwary 
against imposition. Others are seen, whose directions are 
to place a rope around a house on fire, so as to keep from it 
the curious or idle, who may be crushed by the falling walls. 
Others stand at depots or landings, watching the pickpocket, 
who is himself watching his intended prey. And all unite in 
proclaiming the one truth, which the traveler will not be 
long in discovering — the existence of a city on the one side, 
which is beset with many temptations and difficulties, and the 
existence of a municipal government on the other, whose 
office it is to resist these temptations and obviate these diffi- 
culties. The police prove both the government and the 
temptations of that which is governed. 

§ 2. The same proof is afforded by conscience. The self- 



§ 3 CONSCIENCE AS TO OTHERS. 15 

examiner is hardly able to take a turn in the recesses of his 
own heart without meeting one or more of the deputies of 
this indefatigable police magistrate. Wherever there is mo- 
ral danger, a watchman is posted. Sin may advance through 
its subtlest approaches, but the watchful monitor is, never- 
theless, ready to give warning. The stormiest gusts of 
passion or of lust are preceded by their own special cautions. 
Nor are these inward guardians lax in the discharge of their 
duties. It requires a long course of maltreatment to drive 
them from their posts. The experience of each one of us 
will testify to this. We can all look back to the time when 
we entered upon any particular course of sin to whose influ- 
ence we may have ultimately succumbed. We recollect how 
vehement were the remonstrances of conscience, and how 
those remonstrances continued to be uttered in tones the 
most piercing until the watchman was either expelled or our 
ears became so hardened as to be unable to perceive his 
cries. 

§ 3. b 1 . From conscience as to others. 

The police jurisdiction exercised by us over the conduct 
and motives of others, affords the same presumption as that 
exercised over ourselves. St. Paul incidentally draws an ar- 
gument for the existence of conscience from this very quality. 
" Therefore thou art inexcusable, man, whosoever thou art 
that judgest : for wherein thou judgest another, thou con- 
demned thyself.'' 1 In other words, the faculty of judgment 
as to others implies a correspondent supreme governing 
power. Must not the Chief Magistrate, who constitutes 
and directs all this mechanism, be Himself necessarily a 
judge ? 



16 CONSCIENCE INCESSANT, § 4-5 

§ 4. c 1 . From conscience as to abstract right and wrong. 

So it is with the opinions we are constantly forming as 
to right and wrong. No man would take up a digest of 
decisions without saying, as he opened it, and*, as he ob- 
served proposition after proposition laid down as the prin- 
ciples of determinations in the past and the precedents for 
adjudications in the future, without recognizing the exist- 
ence of a law-promulging authority in the same way that 
the decisions themselves prove the existence of one that is 
law-applying. 

b. The existence of god as an unconditioned execu- 
tive, PUNISHING THE VIOLATORS OF HIS LAW, INFERRED 
FROM THE QUALITIES OF CONSCIENCE. 

a 1 . From its action. 

d\ Incessant. 

b 2 . Unconditioned by time. 

c 1 . Unconditioned by matter. 
§ 5. a\ Conscience is incessant in its action. 
We may be only conscious of that action at particular 
moments, but, whenever the curtain which covers it is lifted, 
we see its machinery, as we see that of a steamer when the 
engine door is unclosed, moving with an activity none the 
less incessant, from the fact that it had been unobserved. 
The agencies by which this spectacle is uncovered, and 
proof thus given of the incessant activity of conscience, 
will be examined under a subsequent head. It is sufficient 
here to advert to the effect of discovery of guilt by others 
as recalling the consciousness of remorse in its pristine 
vigor in the criminal himself, as well as to the similar effect 



§ 6 PROVING AN ETERNAL JUDGE. 17 

produced by coming suddenly upon the spot where a crime 
was committed, or by having any of the implements or in- 
cidents of that crime recalled. Conscience, observed or un- 
observed, proceeds unceasingly in its task of pronouncing 
and registering a decree of approval or condemnation on 
each particular act. This process of registry is in nowise 
affected by its escaping our notice. 

It is here that we find one of the chief retributive ele- 
ments of conscience. It places the soul under recognizances 
to keep the peace ; and, on each violation, judgment is 
entered for a specific penalty. We may not be conscious of 
this, but the judgment is, nevertheless, entered, and pro- 
ceeds to accumulate interest until the period of execution 
arrives. 

§ 6. That this process of judgment goes on even in refer- 
ence to acts of mere carelessness, (and a fortiori to acts of 
positive guilt,) a slight observation will show. A lock- 
tender omits to fasten at night the gates of the lock. The 
next morning he finds that through an additional and unex- 
pected force of water, the gate has been burst open, and the 
boats lying in the basin injured. A switch-tender on a rail- 
way, in like manner, neglects his duty, and still more serious 
consequences ensue. A servant forgets to lock a hall-door, 
and that very night thieves find their way in. Now in each 
of these cases the offender may be entirely unconscious at 
the time of the wrongfulness of the negligence. The fact of 
conscience condemning it entirely escapes him. But it is 
otherwise when the evil result follows. This lifts the cover- 
ing off the registry, and shows him that the act received its 
specific judgment. Its moral condemnation was the result 
2* 



18 CONSCIENCE AIDED BY NATURE. § *l 

of its own inherent culpability, not of its consequences. It 
was the consequences that unfolded the condemnation. They 
did not create it. 

§ 1. b % . From conscience as unconditioned by time. 
What I propose now to show is, that time has no effect 
in abating even the retrospective powers of conscience, but 
that the sentence of condemnation, recorded on us by our- 
selves, although frequently lost sight of, continues in full 
vigor, ready, whenever our attention to it is renewed, to be 
recalled in sometimes increased distinctness. We turn sud- 
denly upon the spot where a crime was committed, and the 
judgment of conscience, condemning that crime, is revived 
in its early terror. The inanimate creation, in fact, bears an 
important part in furnishing the attesting witnesses to each 
decree of condemnation. In one of the most splendid rhe- 
torical passages that literature affords, St. Paul depicts all 
creation waiting for the manifestation of the sons of God, 
and, like some huge, and yet exquisitely and most sensi- 
tively constructed animal, straining itself on tip-toe, so as 
to catch the first rays of that glory which is to release it 
from its own bondage : — 

" THE EARNEST EXPECTATION OF THE CREATURE WAITETH 
FOR THE MANIFESTATION OF THE SONS OF GOD. FOR THE 
CREATURE WAS MADE SUBJECT TO VANITY, NOT WILLINGLY, 
BUT BY REASON OF HIM W T HO HATH SUBJECTED THE SAME 
IN HOPE." 

And, as creation will respond to and be united in the 
future deliverance, so it bears witness to the present penal- 
ties for guilt. It may be years since we visited the spot of 
a former crime, and that crime may have been long since ap- 



§ 8 CREATION WITNESSING. 19 

parently forgotten, but the scenery will at once reopen the 
old remorse. Nor is the witnessing of nature purely me- 
chanical. It is not necessary to do more than refer to Mr. 
Babbage's theory of a future state, by which he makes one 
of the chief agencies in the misery of the lost, in that awful 
condition, to be the constant presence of an atmosphere 
which combines, in an acute and eternal pressure, every idle 
word spoken during this life of probation. For, as he shows 
us, the palpitation of the air, produced by the slightest 
of sounds, though it may be, in the dullness of our present 
senses, apparently lost, yet continues to swell and expand 
in continually increasing circles, until that momentous period 
when, by the infinitely sensitive perceptions, even infinitely 
attenuated utterances are appreciable. 

§ 8. But these witnesses speak for the present as well as 
for the future. A very remarkable homicide trial, in one of 
our Southwestern States, may illustrate my meaning in this 
respect. A young man was riding a blooded mare, on his 
way to a distant county, where he hoped to establish himself 
and his newly-married wife. He was waylaid, and assassi- 
nated on the road, and his body so buried under a pile of 
leaves that no traces of its sepulture were visible. It so 
happened that suspicion was turned to the real assassin, 
from the fact that he was found in possession of the mare 
the deceased had ridden. The arrest was made, and the ac- 
cused, under charge of the sheriff, was carried to prison over 
the very road near which the homicide was committed. As 
they reached the spot, the mare, which was ridden by one of 
the officers, began to display unmistakable evidences of 
terror, which increased or diminished as she approached or 



20 CONSCIENCE SLEEPLESS. § 8 

receded from a given centre. The attention of the party 
was arrested, and an examination was commenced, which led 
to the discovery of the remains in the grave where they had 
been deposited. The attesting witnesses of creation, both 
animate and inanimate, called forth into vehement and re 
sponsive activity the direct evidence of conscience within 
the breast of the prisoner himself. He quailed and shivered, 
and blood and muscle, if not voice, confessed. The invisible 
detective police of nature were called into action to enforce 
the decrees of the great Chief Magistrate who presides over 
the heart. 

Even where direct association, such as that just described, 
fails to recall the consciousness and the pangs of guilt, ima- 
gination creates the wanting link. Goethe touches upon 
this with his usual delicate accuracy, in that famous scene 
where Faust and Mephistopheles visit the Hartz Mountain : — 

Faust. 
Seest thou not a pale, 
Fair girl, standing alone, far, far away? 
She drags herself now forward with slow steps, 
And seems as if she moved with shackled feet : 
/ cannot overcome the thought that she 
Is like poor Margaret. 

Mephistopheles. 
Let it be ; — pass on : 
No good can come of it, — it is not well 
To meet it ; it is an enchanted phantom, 
A lifeless idol ; with its numbing look 
It freezes up the blood of man ; and they 
Who meet its ghastly stare are turned to stone, 
Like those who saw Medusa. 



§ 9 RETROSPECTIVE POWERS. 21 

Faust. 
Oh, too true ! 
Her eyes are like the eyes of a fresh corpse 
Which no beloved hand has closed : alas ! 
That is the breast which Margaret yielded to me, 
Those are the lovely limbs I once possessed ! 

Mephistopheles. 

It is all magic, poor deluded fool ! 
She looks to every one like his first love. 

§ 9. We find, therefore, that our temporary unconscious- 
ness of the action of conscience does not affect the perma- 
nency of its record. It may be, that at the time of com- 
mitting a guilty act, we may, either through levity or 
intoxication, not have paused to consider its quality. That 
quality, however, exists, and if the act produces conse- 
quences, they will ultimately arouse us to the judgment 
" pronounced on it. Nor is this peculiarity of conscience differ- 
ent from that of our other attributes. Dugald Stewart tells 
us that in reading aloud there is a distinct act of volition for 
every syllable, though probably if we had stopped to ob- 
serve this volition, the process would have been suspended. 
This is no more than we are led, by our ordinary experience, 
to presume concerning conscience, whose action, accusing or 
excusing, proceeds with equal certainty when observed or 
unobserved.* 

The action of memory gives us an additional analogy to 
the same purpose. Coleridge mentions a servant-girl, 

* Ante, $ 5. 



22 DEATH- BED MEMORIES. § 10 

who, in an attack of fever, recalled and uttered several 
pages of Latin, which she had heard her master, a clergy- 
man, read aloud when she was cleaning his study. 

Dr. Adam Clarke tells us that, when near drowning, his 
memory recalled, in a moment, all the scenes of past guilt.* 
Like phenomena are often observed in dying, among which, 
we may mention the case of Mr. Benton, whose eye, at 
that final moment, turned back to the scene of his Tennessee 

boyhood : — . 

Coelumque 
Adspicit, et dulces moriens reminiscitur Argos. 

§ 10. Similar to this, are the cases Dr. Rush mentions of 
old Swedes, whom he attended at the Pennsylvania Hospital 
during their last sickness, and who spoke Swedish when 
dying, though, perhaps, they had not heard the language 
for fifty or sixty years. So it was that Dr. Johnson, in his 
last hours, passed from the sonorous cadences of those Latin 
chants, in which his mighty spirit had so much delighted, 
and was heard, by his attendants, muttering a child's hymn 
which had been sung to him by his mother when in his 
cradle. 

A still more striking phenomenon is given in Wasian- 
ski's account of the death-bed of Kant. That profound 
philosopher, as we are told by the narrator, was af- 
flicted most painfully, as his last hours approached, by 
the ringing, in his ears, of melodies which, in his earliest 
youth, he had heard in the streets of Konigsberg. "These," 
Mr. Wasianski went on to say, "kept him awake to un- 

* See Dendy's Philosophy of Mystery, p. 390. 



§10 RESURRECTION OF CONSCIENCE. 23 

seasonable hours ; and often when, after long watching, he 
had fallen asleep, however deep his sleep might be, it was 
suddenly broken by terrific dreams, which alarmed him be- 
yond description." 

Mr. Rogers, in one of his Greyson Letters, touches, 
with great felicity, on the effect of association in recalling 
affections which had apparently long since been extin- 
guished. A locket of hair, for instance, belonging to one 
whom we may have loved and lost, will have the power, if 
suddenly hit upon, of letting in once more upon the soul, in 
overwhelming power, the waters of grief. We may suppose 
that the affections which are thus resuscitated are now so 
torpid and numb as to be incapable of any acute sensations. 
We may even feel that we have reduced ourselves to a state 
of stoical contentment ; all at once comes the lock of hair, 
accidentally discovered, perhaps in opening a secretary, and 
we feel ourselves overwhelmed with the bitterest grief. 

Mr. Webster, we are told, for some years kept near his 
heart a little red-worsted sock, which he had taken from the 
foot of a child he had lost in early infancy. Perhaps this 
showed how deep and tender were the home affections which 
glowed under that iron breast. Suppose, however, after a 
long series of years had passed, that little sock had once 
again crossed the eye of the great statesman, would it not 
have told him a leading truth, namely, that memories may be 
buried, but do not die ; that affections and impulses, though 
they be temporarily deadened, have yet immortal attributes, 
and that, with the soul, of which they are a part, they con- 
tinue to live forever, either as elements of peace or of 
sorrow ? 



24 CONSCIENCE NOT MATERIAL. §11 

« 

"We have a kindred illustration of the same truths in a 
phenomenon which often accompanies the discovery of hid- 
den guilt. A man may for years have concealed a crime, 
until at last he may have ceased to be conscious of its enor- 
mity. Suddenly it is discovered. All at once his old sensa- 
tion of misery and remorse return. It is not merely shame 
at the discovery by his fellow-men, or fear of punishment ; 
he may feel these abundantly, and yet there will be, besides 
them, an appreciable remorse ; his old sense of guilt will re- 
vive, perhaps with all its former acuteness ; he will then 
learn the great truth that remorse as well as memory has a 
substantive existence apart from the habits of thought and 
volition. 

§ 11. The nature of remorse itself, as it is more fully dis- 
cussed under a coming head, involves the idea of perpetuity. 
There can be no life-estate in remorse. It has been urged, 
as an objection to imprisonment for life as a punishment for 
murder, that it will be no check to the worst kind of offend- 
ers, since they will go on murdering, ad infinitum, the 
maximum of punishment being already reached, and there 
being no additional penalty. This position applies, with in- 
finitely increased power, to a life limitation of remorse, as 
a moral discipline. The punishment can be avoided by 
doubling the crime ; the murderer may so ossify his heart by 
drink, as to be incapable of even remembering his guilt. 
The worldly and ambitious may go on, in round after round 
of gayety or guilt, until remorse is choked by the very ex- 
cess of occasion for it. The necessities of remorse, as a 
penal discipline, involve its continuance beyond the limits 
of time. 



§ 12-14 ANALOGIES WITH MIND. 25 

§ 12. c 2 . Conscience unconditioned by matter. 
There is a great deal in our intellectual structure to esta- 
blish, and nothing to dispute, the proposition that there 

EXIST IN THE SOUL ELEMENTS, DERIVING THEIR TONE, IT IS 
TRUE, FROM THE COURSE OF PROBATION, BUT CONTINUING 
INDEPENDENTLY OF CORPOREAL CONDITIONS AND OF THE 
SANCTION OF THE WILL. 

§ 13. The proof of this proposition may be considered as 
follows : — 

a 3 . From the nature of conscience itself. 

The sense of guilt, as has been observed, is arbitrarily re- 
called to the mind in full force by involuntary circumstances, 
e.g. discovery, hitting upon the indices or scenes of crime, 
etc. As was shown in the last division, conscience, in its 
general sense, is incessant and unlimited by time. It acts 
with equal energy under circumstances of bodily ease and 
strength, and of bodily wretchedness and debility; in the 
first conceptions of childhood, and in the last consciousness 
of old age. It is said to be a proof of the immortality of 
the mind that the body can be cut away, piece by piece, 
while the intellectual powers remain. But even when the 
mind is destroyed the moral sense continues to operate. 

b 3 . From analogy. 

§ 14. a 1 . Recalled impressions. No thought, as may be 
inferred from the phenomena stated above, is ever lost. The 
recollection of the servant-girl just mentioned, those of dying 
persons, those of drowning persons, serve to show, to adopt 
the language of President Hitchcock, that thought "may 
seem to ourselves to be gone, since we have no power to re- 
call it. But numerous facts show that it needs only some 
3 



26 CONSCIENCE DEATHLESS. § 15 

change in our physical or intellectual condition to restore 
the long-lost impression."* 

§ 15. 6*. Dreaming presents similar phenomena. An im- 
portant Scotch lawsuit was depending upon the recovery 
of papers which had been in existence fifty years back, but 
the genuineness of which was disputed. The trial was about 
to be abandoned, when a very aged man dreamed that they 
would be found in an out-of-the-way parcel, which had en- 
tirely escaped notice: There they were discovered. There 
was no divination in this. Fifty years back, when a child, 
the old man had seen these papers packed away in this par- 
cel. No voluntary action on his part could recall the im- 
pression. It existed, however, to be brought to light by a 
power outside of himself. It existed, to adopt an illustra- 
tion already given, in the same way as the machinery of a 
boat exists in which we may be gliding over the waters. 
We lose the consciousness of the incessant, though quiet 
action of the works by our side until, on passing the engine 
door, it is opened, and we see the clean and smooth limbs of 
the pistons gliding up and down in their giant base. 

The demolition of space and time by dreams is a pheno- 
menon with which we are all familiar. Dr. Abercrombie 
tells us of a gentleman who dreamed that he had enlisted as 
a soldier ; that he had joined his regiment ; that he had 
deserted; was apprehended, and carried back to his regi- 
ment ; was tried by a court-martial, condemned to be shot, 
and led out for execution ; at the moment of the comple- 
tion of these ceremonies, the guns of the platoon were fired, 

* Hitchcock's Lectures, p. 136. 



§ 15 ANALOGY FROM INSANITY. 21 

and, at the report, he awoke. It was clear that a loud noise 
in the adjoining room had both produced the dream, and, 
almost at the moment, awoke the dreamer. 

Lavalette, in his memoirs, mentions a procession that was 
five hours in passing before his dreaming vision, accom- 
panied with such a precise, though horrible measurement of 
time, as to make its registry on the dreamer's mind indelible. 
It so happened that he was able to time the dream by his 
watch to be within ten minutes.* 

* The evidence to be drawn from these phenomena of the imma- 
teriality of the soul has not been overlooked either by classical or 
Christian antiquity. In the Phsedo, Plato tells us that " the body is 
the prison of the soul; that the soul, when it came from God, knew 
all, but inclosed in the body, it forgets, and learns anew." Seneca 
tells us, "Corpus hoc animi pondus est." "I remember," says 
Dendy, in his Philosophy of Mystery, from which the points, under 
this head, are drawn, "in Fulgosius, a legend told by Saint Austin 
to Enodius. There was a physician of Carthage, who was a skeptic 
regarding the soul's immortality and the soul's separate existence. 
It chanced one night that Genadius dreamed of a beautiful city. On 
the second night, the youth who had been his guide reappeared, 
and asked if Genadius remembered him ; he answered yes, and also 
his dream. ' And where,' said the apparition, 'were you then lying ?' 
'In my bed, sleeping.' 'And, if your mind's eye, Genadius, sur- 
veyed a city, even while your body slept, may not this pure and ac- 
tive spirit still live, and observe, and remember, even though the 
body may be shapeless or decayed within its sepulchre V " 

The same thought — the spiritual independence of the soul — is 
thus beautifully given by Longfellow : — 

His lifeless body lay 
A worn-out fetter, that the soul 
Had broken and cast away. 



28 ETERNITY OF CONSCIENCE § 16-17 

§ 16. c\ Insanity. Of the detachment of the mind from 
corporeal conditions when in this state, we have an illustra- 
tion, taken from a statement of Robert Hall, after his first 
attack of mania, — "All my imagination has been over- 
stretched. You, with the rest of my friends, tell me that I 
was only seven weeks in confinement, and the date of the 
year corresponds, so that I am bound to believe you, but 
they have appeared to me like seven years. My mind was 
so excited, and my imagination so lively and active, that 
more ideas passed through my mind than in any seven 
years in my life. Whatever 1 had attained from reading 
or reflection was present to me." 

The exemption of insane persons from many epidemic 
diseases, and their insensibility to heat and cold, arise from 
their attention being drawn from bodily suffering and ex- 
ternal influences. "And shall not a cultivated, well- 
directed volition," agues, from this, Feuchtersleben, from his 
skeptical stand-point, "have as much, nay, greater power, 
than furious anger or the horrible energy of the' insane ?" 
But may not the inference be more correctly stated to con- 
sist in the proposition, that the control of the body over the 
soul is neither absolute nor perpetual ? 

§ 17. d^. Comatose state. On this point we have the 
following statement from Sir Benjamin Brodie : — 

" The mind may be in operation, although the suspension 
of the sensibility of the nervous system, and of the influence 
of volition over the muscles, destroys its connection with 
the external world and prevents all communication with the 
mind of others. It is indeed difficult to say when the ex- 
ternal senses are completely and absolutely closed. I might 



§ 18 ILLUSTRATED BY THE COMATOSE STATE. 29 

refer to numerous facts, which have fallen under nry observa- 
tion, as illustrating this subject, but the following will be 
sufficient : — An elderly lady had a stroke of apoplexy ; she 
lay motionless, and in what is called a state of stupor, and 
no one doubted that she was dying ; but, after the lapse of 
three or four days, there were signs of amendment, and she 
ultimately recovered. After her recovery, she explained 
that she did not believe that she had been unconscious, or 
even insensible, during any part of the attack. She knew 
her situation, and heard much of what was said by those 
around her. Especially she recollected observations inti- 
mating that she would very soon be no more, but, at the 
same time, she had felt satisfied that she would recover ; 
that she had no power of expressing what she felt, but that, 
nevertheless, her feelings, instead of being painful, or in any 
way distressing, had been agreeable rather than otherwise. 
She described them as very peculiar; as if she were con- 
stantly mounting upward, and as something very different 
from what she had before experienced." 

" I have been curious to watch the state of dying persons 
in this respect, and I am satisfied that, where an ordinary 
observer would not for an instant doubt that the individual 
is in a state of complete stupor, the mind is often active 
even at the moment of death. A friend of mine, who had 
been for many years the excellent chaplain of a large hos- 
pital, informed me that his still larger experience had led 
him to the same conclusion." 

§ 18. Sir Benjamin records the case of Dr. Wollaston, 
which is a remarkable instance of this. 
3* 



30 ETERNITY OF CONSCIENCE § 18 

"His death was occasioned by a tumor of the brain, which, 
after having attained a certain size, encroached on the cavi- 
ties (or, as they are technically termed, the ventricles) of 
the brain, and caused an effusion of the fluid into them, pro- 
ducing paralysis of one side of the body ; and it is worthy 
of notice, that certain symptoms which he had himself noted, 
and as to the cause of which he had been in the habit of 
speculating, proved that this organic disease must have ex- 
isted from a very early period of his life, without interfering 
with those scientific investigations which made him one of 
the most eminent philosophers, and one of the greatest or- 
naments of the age in which he lived. During his last ill- 
ness his mental faculties were perfect, so that he dictated an 
account of some scientific observations, which would have 
been lost to the world otherwise. Some time before his life 
was finally extinguished, he was seen pale, as if there were 
scarcely any circulation of blood going on, motionless, and, 
to all appearance, in a state of complete insensibility; be- 
ing in this condition, his friends, who were watching around 
him, observed some motions of the hand which was not 
affected by the paralysis. After some time it occurred to 
them that he wished to have a pencil and paper ; these hav- 
ing been supplied, he contrived to write some figures in ar- 
ithmetical progression, which, however imperfectly scrawled, 
were yet sufficiently legible. It was supposed that he had 
overheard some remarks respecting the state in which he 
was, and that his object was to show that he possessed his 
sensibility and consciousness. Something like this occurred 
some hours afterwards, and immediately before he died, but 
the scrawl of these last moments was not to be deciphered." 



§ 19 ILLUSTRATED BY THE COMATOSE STATE. 31 

To the same effect is a narrative of the Rev. Aclam 
Clarke.* 

§ 19. The Rev. Wm. Tennent, a Presbyterian minister of 
great eminence, and of the highest character for truth and sim- 
plicity, was attacked, when in his nineteenth year, by a lung 
fever, of whose effects he apparently died. "His body," to 
adopt his own narration, as given to us by one of those to 
whom he communicated it himself, f "was laid out in the 
usual manner, in the back part of a room in one of the old- 
fashioned Dutch houses. On Monday morning, when they 
went to put him in the coffin, a man by the name of Dun- 
can, who was assisting, called out to the others to lay him 
down, for he felt his heart beat, and was sure there was life 
in him. His brother Gilbert derided the assertion of Dun- 
can, and, indeed, there was everything to induce a belief that 
he was dead. The length of time that he had been sick, 
his emaciated body, his black lips, his sunken eye, — all ap- 
pearances were against remaining life. But, after this de- 
claration of Duncan, it would not do to bury him, and the 
funeral was postponed till Tuesday, when the people assem- 
bled for the burial. In the mean time, all means had been 
used to restore life. They were again about to put the body 
into the coffin, when again Duncan called out ' Lay him 
down, for I am sure there is life in him.' No other person 
believed there was life, and yet, so long as he retained this 
opinion, they would not allow the funeral-service to proceed. 

* Post, $169. 

f See Letter from General Cumming, 2 Sprague's Annals Am. 
Pulp., p. 55. 



32 ETERNITY OF CONSCIENCE § 20 

The funeral was again postponed until Wednesday, and the 
means of restoring life meanwhile applied with the utmost 
diligence and vigor. At the time appointed, the people 
again assembled, and the doctor was sitting on the bedside, 
with a looking-glass in one hand and a feather in the other, 
trying them alternately at his mouth and his nose. At the 
very last moment, to the unspeakable surprise of all, he 
opened his eyes, gazed at them, and swooned away for about 
two hours." 

Mr. Tennent lived to the age of seventy-two, and led a 
life remarkable for its integrity and purity. During the 
whole of this life he maintained that, while in this state of 
apparent suspended animation, his spirit was in a condition 
of vivid and beatified consciousness.* 

§ 20. We may be permitted to add a well-authenticated 
American case. A gentleman, in a state of suspended ani- 
mation, was given over by his family as dead, and was sub- 
jected to the usual preparations for burial. He fortunately 
was restored to active conciousness, and, as soon as he could 
express himself, detailed the acute horror with which he had 
watched, without the power of resistance, the successive ar- 
rangements made for his sepulture. 

To the same point is the following statement, made by one 
of the companions of the late Dr. Kane : — " The soul can 
lift the body out of its boots, sir. When our captain was 
dying, — I say dying, I have seen scurvy enough to know, — 
every old scar in his body was a running ulcer. If conscience 

* See, for a full narration, Dr. Sprague's Annals, etc. yoI. ii. 
p. 52. 



§ 21 ILLUSTRATED BY LUST. 33 

festers under its wounds correspondingly, hell is not hard to 
understand. I never saw a case so bad that either lived or 
died. Men die of it usually long before they are so ill as he 
was. There was trouble aboard ; there might be mutiny. 
So soon as the breath was out of his body, we might be at 
each other's throats. I felt that he owed even the repose of 
dying to the service. I went down to his bunk, and shouted 
in his ear, 'Mutiny, captain, mutiny!' He shook off the 
cadaveric stupor. 'Let me up,' he said, 'and order these 
fellows before me.' He heard the complaint, ordered pun- 
ishment, and, from that hour, convalesced. Keep that man 
awake with danger, and he wouldn't die of anything until 
his duty was done." 

§ 21. e i . Lust. A very striking case, which may fall under 
this head, is reported as having lately occurred in a Paris hos- 
pital. A man, notorious as a miser, was announced by the 
nurse in attendance as dead. In the next cot lay a pick- 
pocket, who had been quietly waiting for the moment when 
he could crawl up to his intended prey and empty his gorged 
pockets. It was midnight, and the ward was deserted of 
its attendants, when suddenly an unearthly shriek was heard. 
The nurses rushed to the spot, and found the dead man, with 
his long-nailed fingers fixed through the thief s neck. The 
miser, apparently insensible, had felt the thief approach. 
The ruling passion of avarice was still raging, with una- 
bated fury, within his almost lifeless frame. Outside of that 
frame it was about to rage through all eternity, torturing 
and tortured. But now, by one of those violent nervous 
efforts which prove so remarkably the ascendency of mind 
over body, the deserted frame was once more convulsed by 



34 ETERNITY OF CONSCIENCE § 21 

the return of this unearthly lust. It was but for a moment, 
and then the miser and the thief fell lifeless to the ground.* 
Colonel Chartres may be taken as a type of that class of 
cases in which lust survives the bodily mechanism through 
which it worked, and in which it was incased. Of immense 
wealth and of aristocratic connection every effort was turned 
to the gratification of animal passion. Even in his old age, 
his body burned to a cinder, the fire of passion continued 
unabated. Utterly impotent in body, he pursued the sha- 
dow of the same lusts with the same energy with which he 
had once pursued their substance. At last, a scheme was 
laid to entrap him, which resulted in his prosecution for rape. 
He was tried, convicted, and executed, though it afterwards 
appeared that there was perjury as to the overt act. Swift's 
epitaph is well worthy of study, not only for its fierce elo- 
quence but for its psychological truth : — 

HERE continueth to rot 

the body of 

FRANCIS CHARTRES, 

Who, with an inflexible constancy and 

INIMITABLE UNIFORMITY of life, PERSISTED, in Spite of 

age and infirmities, in the practice of every human vice, 

Excepting prodigality and hypocrisy : 

His insatiable avarice exempted him from the first, 

His matchless impudence from the second. 

Nor was he more singular in the undeviating pravity of his manners, 

Than successful in accumulating wealth : for, without 

* See an article in the Episcopal R-eview for July, 1858, by the 
present writer, from which a portion of the remarks in the text are 
drawn. 



§ 22 ILLUSTRATED BY REMORSE. 35 

TRADE Or PROFESSION, without trust of 

public monet, and without 

bribe-worthy service, he acquired, 

Or more properly created, a 

MINISTERIAL ESTATE. 

He was the only person of his time who could cheat without 

The mask of honesty, retain his primeval meanness 

When possessed of ten thousand a year ; 

And, haying daily deserved the 

Gibbet for what he did, 

Was at last condemned to it for what he could not do. 

indignant reader ! 

Think not his life useless to mankind ! 

Providence connived at his execrable designs, 

To give to after-ages a conspicuous 

proof and example 

Of how small estimation is exorbitant 

wealth in the sight of GOD, by 

His bestowing it on the most unworthy of 

all mortals. 

§ 22. b\ The existence of God as an eternal executive, 
punishing violators of His law, inferred from the spiritual 
consequences of a violation of conscience. 

Under this head it will be. sufficient to mention remorse. 
Poets have rivaled psychologists in depicting the punitive 
power of this passion, but neither have been able to equal 
truth. Shakspeare's keenness of perception and energy of 
expression have come near to it, in the passage where the 
death of Cardinal Beaufort is described : — 



36 ETERNITY OF CONSCIENCE. § 22 

Scene — Cardinal's Bed-chamber 
Enter King Henry, Salisbury, and Warwick. 

K. Hen. How fares my lord ? Speak, Beaufort, to thy sovereign. 

Car. If thou be'st death, I'll give thee England's treasure, 
Enough to purchase such another island, 
So thou wilt let me live, and feel no pain. 

K. Hen. Ah, what a sign it is of evil life, 
When death's approach is seen so terrible ! 

War. Beaufort, it is thy sovereign speaks to -thee. 

Car. Bring me unto my trial when you will. 
Died he not in his bed? where should he die? — 
Can I make men live, whe'r they will or no ? — 
! torture me no more ; I will confess. — 
Alive again ? Then show me where he is ; 
I'll give a thousand pound to look upon him. — 
He hath no eyes ; the dust hath blinded them. — 
Comb down his hair ; look! look! it stands upright, 
Like lime-twigs set to catch my winged soul ! 
Give me some drink ; and bid the apothecary 
Bring the strong poison that I bought of him. 

K. Hen. 0, thou eternal Mover of the heavens, 
Look with a gentle eye upon this wretch ! 
0, beat away the busy, meddling fiend, 
That lays strong siege unto this wretch's soul, 
And from his bosom purge this black despair! 

War. See, how the pangs of death do make him grin ! 

Sal. Disturb him not ; let him pass peaceably. 

K. Hen. Peace to his soul, if God's good pleasure be ! 
Lord Cardinal, if thou think'st on heaven's bliss, 
Hold up thy hand, make signal of thy hope. — 
He dies, and makes no sign. 0, God, forgive him ! 

War. So bad a death argues a monstrous life. 

K. Hen. Forbear to judge, for we are sinners all. — 
Close up his eyes, and draw the curtain close ; 
And let us all to meditation. 



§ 23 POWER OF REMORSE. 37 

Dr. Beecher, some years back, gave a sketch of a remark- 
able visit paid by him to the Pennsylvania Hospital for the 
Insane. He observed a man, then advancing in years, 
standing before him, frozen apparently to the ground. " I 
asked who that was, so fixed, the image of despair. It was 
the son of Dr. Rush, (of revolutionary memory,) and, in 
the dreadful hour of revenge and pride, he had killed a fel- 
low-man in a duel. There he stood, like a pillar. Some- 
times he would apparently wake up to recollection ; he 
would pace off the distance, and give the word, 'fire V Then 
he would cry out, 'he is dead! he is dead!'" It may be 
added, that the quarrel was one between two friends, then 
scarcely past their boyhood ; that the difficulty was about a 
mere trifle, but was carried on, and consummated in hot 
blood ; and that, from that period to a gray old age, the 
survivor continued to react, with all the sincerity of despair, 
the awful scene of the duel.* 

§ 23. Nor do these retributions confine themselves to 
what are commonly called crimes. Remorse may follow 
levity as well as overt guilt ; neglect as well as positive 
wrong. Xowhere, not even in the pages of Puritan theo- 
logy, is this more vividly and splendidly illustrated than in 
the following lines of a poet, than whom no one is more dis- 
tinguished for the denunciation and ridicule of what he 
called religious cant. A lady, who lived in luxurious ease 
and inaction, thus speaks of the vision of a dream : — 

* As to the illimitable attributes of mind, see post, \ 29. 
4 



38 CONSCIENCE § 24 

For the blind and the cripple were there, and the babe that pined 
for bread; 
And the houseless man, and the "widow poor, who begged — to bury 

the dead ! 
The naked, alas! that I might have clad, the famished I might have 
fed! 

Each pleading look, that long ago I scanned with a heedless eye, 
Each face was gazing as plainly then as when I passed it by ; 
Woe, woe for me, if the past should be thus present when I die ! 

No need of sulphurous lake, no need of fiery coal, 

But only that crowd of human kind, that wanted pity and dole — 

In everlasting retrospect — will wring my sinful soul ! 

Alas ! I have walked through life, too heedless where I trod ; 
Nay, helping to trample my fellow-worm, and fill the burial sod, 
Forgetting that even the sparrow falls not unmarked of God ! 

I drank the richest draughts, and ate whatever was good — 
Fish, and flesh, and fowl, and fruit, supplied my hungry mood ; 
But I never remembered the wretched ones that starve for want of 
food! 

I dressed as the noble dress, in cloth of silver and gold, 
With silk, and satin, and costly furs, in many an ample fold ; 
But I never remembered the naked limbs that froze with winter's 
cold; 

The wounds I might have healed ! the human sorrow and smart ! 

And yet it never was in my soul to play so ill a part ; 

But evil is wrought by want of thought, as ivell as want of heart ! 

§ %i. Schiirmayer, not the least accurate of recent Ger- 
man writers on Forensic Medicine,* thus speaks: "Remorse 

* Schiirmayer, Gericht, Med., \ 510. 



§ 25 ILLUSTRATED BY REMORSE. 39 

often affects the mind so powerfully as to approach the ap- 
pearance of insanity. The smothered self-reproach of the 
criminal sometimes expresses itself in the shape of deep 
dejection, and sometimes in that of petulance and irritability. 
Almost every defendant who is guilty will be seen to lapse, 
at least periodically, into a deep reverie, with the eyes star- 
ing in vacancy. The most consummate villains alone are 
exempt from such feelings. Criminals generally endeavor 
to suppress the voice of conscience because they fear to be 
betrayed by it. But this very action is perfectly legible in 
their faces, gestures, and general bodily condition. Under 
these circumstances the qualms of conscience frequently as- 
sume the appearance of disease. The accused, particularly 
if in confinement, does not sleep at night for weeks, and 
consequently looks pale and haggard, loses his appetite, and 
speaks with hesitation, and sometimes with trembling. When 
this condition reaches a point of great intensity, the guilty 
is visited by visions and hallucinations ; avenging angels ap- 
pear to him, or evil spirits, phantoms, or the shades of the 
dead and injured." 

§ 25. What is called irritability, rising as it sometimes 
does to oikeiomania or domestic insanity,* may fall under 
this head. " I would much rather," says a keen observer, " ex- 
pect a kind office from one who has previously done me a kind- 
ness than from one to whom such a kindness has been done." 
In other words, the very act of beneficence generates an even- 
ness of temper, which, while it smooths the way for a con- 
tinued flow of the same impulses, gives additional composure 

* See Wharton and Stille, Med. Jur. 3 204. 



40 DIVINE JUSTICE § 25 

and peace to the mind itself. In this view irritation is the re- 
tribution of petty social wrongs, approaching insanity as those 
wrongs amount to crimes. Psychological researches in re- 
cent days show that it is on the perpetrator, much more 
than upon the victim of great domestic wrongs, that the 
shock resulting from their commission falls. It is true that 
hearths are often desolated by the approach of that crime 
which makes innocence the cherished prey of lust. It is true 
that in cases, both far more numerous and far more subtle in 
their consequences, the unsubdued passions, or the perverse 
and perverting temper of a father or mother, a husband or 
a wife, may make a home wretched, may hurry the funeral 
to the door to carry to her first resting-place one who had 
been crushed by a system of wearying oppression or tantaliz- 
ing wrong; or may drive into desperation those whom it 
would have required but a few kind words to have kept 
around the fireside in peace and sobriety. It is true, also, 
that the affections are often engaged by a system of atten- 
tions which the world may call innocent, but which, whether 
the result of design or levity, succeed in making desolate a 
heart which otherwise might have ripened into that full ma- 
tronly beauty, — a beauty which nothing in nature can equal, 
— which the golden harvest of a loved and cherished woman- 
hood presents. All these are common words in the world's 
mouth. So familiar are they, that when the ear hears or the 
eye catches the first word or two bearing upon them, it at 
once flits away, conscious that it knows all that is going to 
be said already, and rests upon some more congenial topic 
of meditation. But there is a counterpart to this, which is 
less known. It is, that it is the wrong-doer who receives, in 



§ 25 ILLUSTRATED BY REMORSE. 41 

his own person, in double virulence, the poison which he in- 
jects into the system of others. The vitals of the oppressor 
are consumed by a torture which, being slower, is more ex- 
quisite than that which is inflicted on the oppressed. We have 
a very pregnant illustration of this in a late statement by one 
of the most eminent and experienced of the present London 
psychological physicians. "Marital unkindness," says Dr. 
Mayo, "is subversive of soundness of mind in the person on 
whom it is exercised ; and exercised it is in a thousand ways 
in this country without violence being had recourse to. l The 
state of the law,' as Mr. Dickens well observes, and terrifi- 
cally proves, 'is unprotective of wives.' But the mischief 
is not unavenged ; and here the case of the husband's retribu- 
tion commences. Many men are living in a state of con- 
tinuous and exhausting remorse, under the consciousness that 
this system of torture is being carried on by them. For when 
once the habit is formed, they can neither shake it off nor 
bear their self-consciousness under it. 

Culpam poena prerait comes. 

"I need not speak of their retrospects, if they should out- 
live the object of their tyranny." 

It is here, as recent developments have enabled us to de- 
termine, is to be found the secret of that phrensied remorse 
which marked the last days of Jonathan Swift. Others have 
been pointed out as the victims of the heartlessness which 
led him to trifle with the affections which he had won. But 
the most conspicuous victim was himself. Alternating be- 
tween howling mania and paralyzing despair, the desolate 
close of his life is a fitting memorial of the truth that there 
4* 



42 DIVINE JUSTICE § 26 

is a retribution attached as much to wrongs done to the af- 
fections of others, as to wrongs done to their persons or 
property. 

I may be permitted to close this topic with the following 
passage from a sketch given by the late Dr. Parrish, of Phi- 
ladelphia — a very reliable witness — of the last hours of 
John Randolph : — 

"A napkin was called for, and placed by John over his 
breast. For a short time he lay perfectly quiet, with his eyes 
closed. He suddenly roused up and exclaimed — ' Remorse ! 
Remorse !' It was thrice repeated — the last time at the top 
of his voice, with great agitation. He cried out — ' Let me 
see the word. Get a dictionary; let me see the word.' 
'There is none in the room, sir.' 'Write it down then — let 
me see the word.' The doctor picked up one of his cards, 
'Randolph of Roanoke.' 'Shall I write it on this card?' 
'Yes, nothing more proper.' The word remorse was then 
written in pencil. He took the card in a hurried manner, 
and fastened his eyes on it with great intensity. 'Write it 
on the back,' he exclaimed. It was so done and handed him 
again. He was extremely agitated — ' Remorse ! you have no 
idea what it is ; you can form no idea of it whatever ; it has 
contributed to bring me to my present situation. But I have 
looked to the Lord Jesus Christ, and hope I have obtained 
pardon. Now. let John take your pencil and draw a line 
under the word;' which was accordingly clone. 'What am 
I to do with the card?' inquired the doctor. 'Put it in your 
pocket — take care of it — when I am dead loY>k at it.'"* 

§ 26. c 1 . The existence of God as an eternal executive, 

* Garland's Life of Randolph, p. 373. 



§ 26 ILLUSTRATED BY REMORSE. 43 

punishing the violators of His law, inferred from the phy- 
sical consequences of a violation of conscience. 

Let us go, for instance, to Augustus the Strong, of Sax- 
ony, and observe in him in early life the "maximum of phy- 
sical strength : can break horseshoes, nay, halfcrowns, with 
finger and thumb;"* of superb beauty, and possessor of two 
crowns. Meet him again when in the prime of manhood, 
and you see him bloated and putrid. A life of eminent dis- 
sipation has broken a constitution of eminent strength. So 
it is everywhere. We are placed, in fact, under recogniz- 
ances to obey the decrees of conscience, and our bodies be- 
come our bail. If the bond is broken, the bail is seized upon 
and made to pay the forfeit. Nor is it bodily strength alone 
that is thus taken in execution. Nervous power, intellectual 
integrity, simplicity of heart, even lustre of genius, all these- 
are in like manner sacrificed as penalties. Byron, Burns, 
Mirabeau — themselves desolating and desolated — lead us, 
in the agonized confession of their early though self-de- 
stroyed manhood, to the same truth of the organic connec- 
tion between spiritual and physical demoralization. 

Nor does the penalty stop here. The finer and more gene- 
rous capacities of the heart become in like manner involved. 
The susceptibility for innocent joys — of all susceptibilities 
the finest — is lost. Burns speaks with a sad truth on this 
point : — 

I waive the quantum of the sin, 
The hazard of concealing, 

But oh I it hardens all within 
And 2>etrifies the feeling. 

* Carlyle, Fred. II. vol. 1, p. 148. 



44 DIVINE JUSTICE § 2*1 

Take also that adaptation of society by which Q) approval 
and respect, utterly distinct from that subserviency which 
waits upon fortune, are paid to integrity even when in chains 
and penury, while, ( 2 ) as part of the same system, distrust and 
dislike attend selfishness. Here we have an additional evi- 
dence of the extent to which Providence presses and shores 
up by auxiliary sanctions this main pillar of conscience ; 
and consequently here we find an additional proof of the 
contrivance exhibited in this great moral engine. "The up- 
right man is trusted, and has a thousand means of advancing 
his interest denied to the cunning and deceitful. The friendly 
man receives friendship, which the selfish man can never ob- 
tain, or enjoy though it were granted to him."* 

§ 27. Taking these phenomena in connection with those 
mentioned in a former section, they give the materials for an 
induction by no means incomplete, in reference to the cha- 
racter of the divine agent by whom this complicated machine 
is constructed and kept in motion. It is as if we saw senti- 
nels posted on the parapets of a besieged fort to repel in- 
vaders, to preserve discipline and repress mutinies among 
the besieged, and to repair works which have crumbled by 
time or broken under assault. Comparative anatomists, we 
are told, are able to complete, from a single bone, the entire 
structure of what may be an extinct animal. The work be- 
fore us is not so difficult. We have far more abundant ma- 
terials to complete the structure than those which human 
sagacity considers sufficient to solve a temporal problem. It 
is well for us, therefore, to pause and contemplate the temple 

* McCosh on Div. Govt., p. 326. 



§ 28 ILLUSTRATED BY CONSCIENCE. 45 

and its Gocl, as they stand thus developed before our eyes. 
For human nature is a ruined temple, though a temple still. 
The greatness of its capacity, and the splendor of its archi- 
tecture, show how divine is the hand that made it, and how 
important its purposes. That it is in ruins proves that some 
great disturbing force has swept over it and shaken it to its 
foundations. But the guards that have been placed around 
it show that even over the ruins there presides a wise and 
merciful God, ready not only to meet and correct the evils 
which this shock may produce, but to make it, by turning it 
into a means of probation, conduce to the moral and spiritual 
elevation of His people. 

§ 28. Recapitulating the points taken in this chapter, we 
have — 

a. The existence of a Supreme Lawgiver, inferred from 

the existence of conscience as a law. 

b. The existence of a Supreme Judge, inferred from the 

existence of conscience as a judicial tribunal. 

c. The existence of a Supreme Spiritual Executive, re- 

warding and punishing in life and after life, inferred 
from the retributive attributes of conscience, them- 
selves incessant and unconditioned by time or matter, 
and aided by a complicated apparatus of physical 
and social sanctions. 
We have the same species of proof for these propositions 
that we have for similar propositions connected with human 
society. From a code, we infer a law-making power; from 
a court, a judicial ; from the enforcement of the decrees of 
such court, an executive. If, in addition to such data, we 
find that within certain limits the freedom of the subject is 



46 CONSCIENCE AS PROOF OF GOD. § 28 

maintained, we infer that the government is one which, for 
purposes of its own, finds it wiser to preserve individual 
liberty and to impose individual responsibility, even though 
at the risk of occasional disorders, than to attempt to de- 
stroy these agencies, by making all action to depend upon a 
direct and resistless governmental impulse. And our con- 
ception of the power and prevision of such a government 
rises in proportion to the energy, the splendor, and the com- 
pass of the instrumentalities it brings to bear to carry out 
its polity. Applying this same reasoning to the facts before 
us, we have the spectacle of a Gocl, Creator, Judge, and 
Avenger, establishing and vindicating a moral law by sanc- 
tions unconditioned by time and matter. 



j 29 MIND AS PROOF OF GOD. 47 



CHAPTEE II. 



FROM MIND. 



a. The nature of mind. 

§ 29. The consciousness of each of us attests the exist- 
ence of a distinct individuality, peculiar to ourselves, capable 
of choosing or rejecting ; of comparing, judging, and classify- 
ing ; of reasoning and of imagining. This individuality, view- 
ing it in its intellectual relations, has no bounds. It is able 
to bring together instantaneously and often unconsciously — 
so flexible and rapid are its movements — the desert rock, on 
which the shipwrecked mariner may stand, and the hamlet 
four thousand miles off, in which lies his home. It spans 
myriads of years with its sudden arch. It stands on the 
observatory, and measures the height and determines the 
weight of stars, whose very light cannot reach us under a 
million of years. Nor is its dominion limited to things 
real. It creates as well as recalls ; it convokes imaginary 
assemblages as well as reproduces those which have been 
dissolved by time. Blinded in front by an impenetrable 
veil it certainly is, for it can foretell not the events that are 
to come ; but its sight backward and upward and downward 
is unobstructed, and the closing to it of the future is only 



48 MIND AS PROOF OF GOD. § 30 

another proof of that contrivance which gives enough light 
to illuminate, but not enough to destroy probation. 

b. The cause of mind. 

§ 30. What must have been that workshop in which agen- 
cies such as these were constructed ? He that formeth the 
ear, does He not hear ? He that makes the mind, guarded 
as it is, so as to subserve the purposes of probation, and yet 
unlimited for all else beside, does He not think ? 

This, however, may be illustrated still further. We stand, 
for instance, on the sea-shore, and see a vessel tossed in the 
waves — no human power, it would seem, can save it. A rope, 
however, is projected from the shore, by which the crew are 
ferried over and saved. In this we recognize the action of 
human intelligence and beneficence. Turn, then, for a mo- 
ment, to another scene. Buildings are seen crowded with 
the sick and dying : — 

The wounded from the battle plain 
In dreary hospitals of pain, 

The cheerless corridors, 

The cold and stony floors: 

Lo ! in that house of misery 
A lady with a lamp I see 

Pass through the glimmering gloom, 

And flit from room to room. 

And slow, as in a dream of bliss, 
The speechless sufferer turns to kiss 

Her shadow as it falls 

Upon the darkening walls. 



§ 31 CAUSE OF MIND. 49 

We see human design in the rope cast to the foundering 
ship : shall we not see a divine purpose in an agency like 
this flung out among the sick and dying ? Or can we refuse 
to see the same designing power, acting upon the same sub- 
ject-matter of a fallen nature, when we view such a mission 
as that of Dorothy Dix to the insane of our own land ? 

§ 31. Let us take, however, one or two more illustrations. 
An Englishman is seen casting stones, apparently idly, into 
the Niger, and watching the bubbles as they slowly rise from 
the mud below. The women and children gaze almost in 
sympathy at one whose objects in life are apparently so 
much like their own. It is Mungo Park, calculating, from 
the length of time the bubbles take to rise, what is the 
depth of the mysterious river whose sources he is about to 
explore, A boy sits by a chimney-fire in Lancashire, curi- 
ously scanning the lid of the tea-kettle as it flaps up and 
down under the pressure of the steam arising from the boil- 
ing water beneath. The housewife scolds him for his idle- 
ness, but she need not. It is Watt, catching the first con- 
ception of the steam-engine. That subtle element of mind, 
residing within that boy's frame, is to project itself forward 
from the chimney-corner until it binds the world together 
with ligatures of iron, — until the steam-horse dashes over 
tressel-work and through tunnels, so as to equalize the mar- 
kets and unite the sympathies of distant nations, and until 
the press so works as to supply every home with a library 
at the former cost of a tract. 

Now how are we to account for the human mind other- 
wise than by the supposition of a spiritual creative power ? 
5 



50 MIND AS PROOF OF GOD. § 31 

Mere matter might lead us no further than an elementary 
mechanism, soulless and discretionless, like the first cause of 
Schelling, or the inflexible and arbitrary germinative prin- 
ciple of La Place. But mind, in its multiform and flexible 
adaptations to life, — mind, conscious of its own independent 
volitions, — leads us above the prison-house wherein resides 
a Deity in chains. Mind, voluntary, free-acting, involves a 
free Creator. " He that made the eye, can He not see ?" He 
that made the mind, is He mindless ? 



§ 32 COSMICAL LAW. 51 



CHAPTER III. 

FROM THE EXISTENCE OF LAW IN THE UNIVERSE. 

§ 32. This topic will be considered under the following 
heads : — 

a. Unity and harmony of pattern. 

Here we find a singular evidence of the unity of the 
Divine Machinist. The trade-mark, if we may use the ex- 
pression, is always the same. "I know such a pattern," 
declares the expert who is examined before a committee of 
the House of Commons, as to the extent to which certain 
goods have penetrated in distant territories, "and the mo- 
ment I saw it, though in central Africa, I recognized in it 
the stamp used by our firm in Manchester for a particular 
style of goods." So in traversing the regions divided by 
one of our trunk railways, as we observe the line of station- 
houses erected by the company, we say, " these we know at 
once — the castellated walls, or the old English roofs, show 
where the management of a particular road begins and 
ends." So we trace back one style of architecture to one 
period, and another style to another period. So in a par- 
ticular combination of color with effect, we discover one old 
master of painting; in another combination, another old 
master. 



52 COSMICAL LAW § 33 

Now if this is the case among the changing fashions of 
human society, how much more must it be so when this 
similarity of patterns runs over hundreds of thousands of 
years in time, and the whole universe in space. Forever, 
everywhere, as far as we can observe, are the same patterns 
applied, the same fundamental principles of structure ob- 
served. We pierce the pyramids, and discover in the fune- 
real recesses of those vast mausoleums, urns of a certain 
shape, with hieroglyphics, marking a specific dynasty of the 
Pharaohs. We discover similar memorials going back to a 
similar period on the Upper Nile, and we at once infer a 
common origin. We infer, in like manner, the existence and 
unity of a now extinct race of civilized Americans, from the 
sacrificial mounds scattered over North America. And thus 
when we find primal types, beginning with the earth itself, 
coming down to our day, and spreading over the whole 
earth, we infer the unity as well as the unlimited existence 
of the great Artificer of all. 

§ 33. Now how is it in point of fact ? Let us, in order 
to answer this, go back, under the guidance of geology, to 
survey the beginning of organic life. Here we may pause 
for a moment, to notice an error of the most fascinating and 
graphic of all the historians of the pre-Adamite earth — the 
late Hugh Miller. 

Impressed, as was natural to his passionate and manly 
temperament, with a vehement sense of the falsity of the 
theory of the author of the "Vestiges of Creation," he 
seized upon an imperfect induction to give an additional 
blow to an hypothesis which he had already effectually 
demolished by arguments of unquestioned validity. He 



§ 33 AS PROVING A GOD. 53 

thought, and in this he has been followed by others seeking 
to strengthen a theological analogy which requires no such 
support, that after the first animal creation there was a fall 
in the creative type. The earlier fishes and reptiles he held 
to be of a more perfect order, and these, he maintained, 
were followed by a series of lower and more degraded crea- 
tions. Such, however, as has been abundantly demonstrated 
by an able and recent observer in our own country, is not 
the case.* The Ganoids and Placoids, on which Mr. Miller 
relied as instances of the superiority of the earlier creations, 
united, indeed, features which placed them in a higher posi- 
tion than the typical fishes that succeeded them, for, as em- 
bryos, they exhibited capacities which, though undeveloped 
in themselves, were the insignia of far higher forms after- 
wards to succeed. They were, in fact, the obscure prophe- 
cies of subsequent productions, but as prophecies they were 
interpreted and dignified by the event, but did not anticipate 
and pre-establish it. During the paleozoic period they were 
the "sole representatives of the vertebrate type, combining 
in themselves the characters of all classes." "The Sigilla- 
ria and Leipodendron stood as the representatives of both 
Cryptogram and Phoenogram, until these two ideas were 
separately and more distinctly expressed by the subsequent 
introduction of the typical forms of these two classes. It is 
as if nature first sketched her work in general terms and 



* See Professor Le Conte's Lecture on Coal, Smithsonian Insti- 
tute, 1857, p. 167. Prof. Agassiz, as will be seen, incidentally 
adopts the same position, which is also maintained with great full- 
ness by Dr. Harris in his Pre-Adamite Earth. 
5* 



54 COSMIC AL LAW § 33 

then elaborated each subordinate idea in separate families ; 
all these families, taken together as an organic whole, still 
containing the original idea in a more completely developed 
form, as if the problem of organic nature was first expressed 
in a few simple but comprehensive symbols, and then dif- 
ferentiated."* But while there was in the beginning this 
creation, as it were, of an outline pattern, (just in the same 
way, to adopt an illustration from the writer just quoted, as 
we observe in the first organization of human society the 
grouping together in individuals of several social functions, 
each man being, however imperfectly, his own blacksmith, 
shoemaker, and farmer, while afterwards, as the race pro- 
gresses, the trades divide, each performing its functions the 
more perfectly, because separately,) yet there was no subse- 
quent automaton development of the future stages of 
life. "If there is anything," is the conclusion of the very 
interesting paper now before us, "which geology teaches 
with clearness, it is that the animal and vegetable kingdoms 
did not commence as monads, or vital points, but as organ- 
isms, so perfect that even the maddest Lamarckian must admit 
that they could not have been formed by agency of physical 
forces; that species did not pass into one another by trans- 
mission, but that each species was introduced in full perfec- 
tion, remained unchanged during the term of their existence, 
and died in full perfection ; that physical conditions cannot 
change one species into another, but that a species will 
rather give up its life than its specific character." "As far 
as the evidence of geology extends, each species was intro- 

* Smithsonian Institute, 1857> p. 163. 



§ 34 PROVING THE DIVINE ATTRIBUTES. 55 

duced by the direct miraculous interference of a 'personal 
intelligence. There has, indeed, been a constantly increas- 
ing series, but the connection between the terms of the series 
has not been physical or genetic, but intellectual ; not founded 
in the laws of reproduction, but in the eternal counsels of 
the Almighty." 

§ 34. Let us go back, however, to this principle of iden- 
tity of pattern, each formation in due time mounting to 
successively higher species, not by transformation, but by 
specific divine direction.* Then, when we take into con- 
sideration the almost infinite series of years during which 
this progress has gone on; the unlimited cosmical field on 
which it operates; the equally unlimited command of re- 
sources which it displays ; the magnificent sweep of purpose 
and the exquisite delicacy of detail it combines, and at the 
same time the calm precision and evenness of the gradually 
narrowing cycles by which it concentrates itself upon man — 
we may well concur in the truths of the following attributes 
as belonging to the Divine Creator and Ruler of all : — 
I. Unity of agency. 
II. Consistency of purpose. 
■ III. Unlimited power. 

VI. Patience and majestic endurance. 

V. A capacity for the most sublime development of plan 

and the most exquisite discrimination of detail. 

VI. A continuing special superintendence of the world. 

VII. The recognition of man, as occupying a post of final 

* See Agassiz's Report on the Fossil Fishes of the Devonian Sys- 
tem, Twelfth Report British Association, p. 85. 



56 cosmic al laws: §35 

importance in this grand series of development, with be- 
hind him an almost unlimited past, instinct, with its lessons 
of humility, of dependence on the divine purpose, and yet, at 
the same time, of responsibility, showing us that man is the 
great moral centre of this immense educational as well as 
economical engine.* 

YIII. The recognition also of the truth, that the defects 
and evils of this stage of spiritual existence are but ancillary 
to, and preparatory for, a higher order, in the same way 
that the defects and evils in the earlier stages of physical 
development are incident to the latter. These defects and 
evils are, therefore, inherent in an intermediate stage, in a 
series of advances, from chaos to final perfection, f 

b. Union of harmony in general laws, with special 

ADAPTATION OF DETAILS. J 

§ 35. Under this head I cannot do more than adopt the 
following summary, in which Professor Agassiz, with a 
delicacy and exactness of analysis only excelled by the syn- 
thetical completeness of the material on which it rests, sums 
up the theistic inferences to be collected from the first vo- 
lume of the great work which he has now under publication : — 

" In recapitulating the preceding statements we may pre- 
sent the following conclusions : — 

1st. The connection of all these known features of nature 
into one system exhibits thought, the most comprehensive 
thought, in limits transcending the highest wonted powers of 
man. 

* See post, g 100. f See post, \ 173. % See post, \ 229. 



§ 36 AGASSIZ' CLASSIFICATION. 57 

2d. The simultaneous existence of the most diversified types 
under identical circumstances exhibits thought, the ability to 
adapt a great variety of structures to the most uniform con- 
ditions. 

3d. The repetition of similar types, under the most diversi- 
fied circumstances, shows an immaterial connection between 
them ; it exhibits thought, proving directly how completely 
the creative mind is independent of the influence of a ma- 
terial world. 

4th. The unity of plan in otherwise highly diversified types 
of animals, exhibits thought ; it exhibits more immediately 
premeditation, for no plan could embrace such a diversity of 
beings, called into existence at such long intervals of time, 
unless it had been framed in the beginning with immediate 
reference to the end. 

§ 36. 5th. The correspondence, now generally known as 
special homologies, in the details of structure in animals 
otherwise entirely disconnected, down to the most minute 
peculiarities, exhibits thought, and more immediately the 
power of expressing a general proposition in an indefinite 
number of ways, equally complete in themselves, though dif- 
fering in all their details. 

6th. The various degrees and different kinds of relationship 
among animals which can have no genealogical connection, 
exhibit thought, the power of combining different categories 
into a permanent, harmonious whole, even though the ma- 
terial basis of this harmony be ever changing. 

1th. The simultaneous existence, in the earliest geological 
periods in which animals existed at all, of representatives of 



58 cosmic al laws: § 37 

all the great types of the animal kingdom, exhibits most es- 
pecially thought, considerate thought, combining power, pre- 
meditation, prescience, omniscience. 

8th. The gradation based upon complications of structure 
which may be traced among animals built upon the same 
plan, exhibits thought, and especially the power of distribut- 
ing harmoniously unequal gifts. 

9th. The distribution of some types over the most extensive 
range of the surface of the globe, while others are limited to 
particular geographical areas, and the various combinations 
of these types into zoological provinces of unequal extent, 
exhibit thought, a close control in the distribution of the 
earth's surface among its inhabitants. 

10th. The identity of structure of these types, notwithstand- 
ing their wide geographical distribution, exhibits thought, 
that deep thought which, the more it is scrutinized, seems 
the less capable of being exhausted, though its meaning at 
the surface appears at once plain and intelligible to every 
one. 

§ 37. 11th. The community of structure in certain respects 
of animals otherwise entirely different, but living within the 
same geographical area, exhibits thought, and more particu- 
larly the power of adapting most diversified types with pecu- 
liar structures to either identical or to different conditions of 
existence. 

12th. The connection, by series, of special structures ob- 
served in animals widely scattered over the surface of the 
globe, exhibits thought, unlimited comprehension, and more 
directly omnipresence of mind, and also prescience, as far as 
such series extend through a succession of geological ages. 






§ 38 AGASSIZ' CLASSIFICATION. 59 

13th. The relation there is between the size of animals and 
their structure and form, exhibits thought ; it shows that in 
nature the quantitative differences are as fixedly determined 
as the qualitative ones. 

14th. The independence in the size of animals of the me- 
diums in which they live, exhibits thought, in establishing 
such close connection between elements so influential in 
themselves and organized beings so little affected by the na- 
ture of these elements. 

§ 38. 15th. The permanence of specific peculiarities under 
every variety of external influences, during each geological 
period, and under the present state of things upon earth, 
exhibits thought ; it shows, also, that limitation in time is an 
essential element of all finite beings, while eternity is an at- 
tribute of the Deity only. 

16th. The definite relations in which animals stand to the 
surrounding world, exhibit thought; for all animals living^ 
together stand respectively, on account of their very differ- 
ences, in different relations to identical conditions of exist- 
ence, in a manner which implies a considerate adaptation of 
their varied organization to these uniform conditions. 

11th. The relations in which individuals of the same species 
stand to one another exhibit thought, and go far to prove 
the existence in all living beings of an immaterial imperish- 
able principle, similar to that which is generally conceded to 
man only. 

18th. The limitation of the range of changes which ani- 
mals undergo during their growth, exhibits thought ; it 
shows most strikingly the independence of these changes of 



60 cosmic al laws: §39 

external influences, and the necessity that they should be 
determined by a power superior to these influences. 

19th. The unequal limitation in the average duration of the 
life of individuals in different species of animals, exhibits 
thought; for, however uniform or however diversified the 
conditions of existence may be under which animals live to- 
gether, the average duration of life, in different species, is 
unequally limited. It points therefore at a knowledge of 
time and space, and of the value of time, since the phases of 
life of different animals are apportioned according to the 
part they have to perform upon the stage of the world. 

20th. The return to a definite norm of animals which mul- 
tiply in various ways, exhibits thought. It shows how wide 
a cycle of modulations may be included in the same concep- 
tion, without yet departing from a norm expressed more 
directly in other combinations. 

§ 39. 21st. The order of succession of the different types 
of animals and plants characteristic of the different geo- 
logical epochs, exhibits thought. It shows that while the 
material world is identical in itself in all ages, ever different 
types of organized beings are called into existence in suc- 
cessive periods. 

22d. The localization of some types of animals upon the 
same points of the surface of the globe, during several suc- 
cessive geological periods, exhibits thought, consecutive 
thought; the operations of a mind acting in conformity 
with a plan laid out beforehand and sustained for a long 
period. 

23d. The limitation of closely allied species to different 



§ 39 AGASSIZ' CLASSIFICATION. 61 

geological periods, exhibits thought; it exhibits the power 
of sustaining nice distinctions, notwithstanding the interpo- 
sition of great disturbances by physical revolutions. 

24th. The parallelism between the order of succession of 
animals and plants in geological times, and the gradation 
among the living representatives, exhibit thought ; consecu- 
tive thought, superintending the whole development of na- 
ture from beginning to end, and disclosing throughout a 
gradual progress, ending with the introduction of man at 
the head of the animal creation. 

25th. The parallelism between the order of succession of 
animals in geological times, and the changes their living re- 
presentatives undergo during their embryological growth, ex- 
hibits thought ; the repetition of the same train of thoughts 
in the phases of growth of living animals and the successive 
appearance of their representatives in past ages. 

26th. The combination, in many extinct types, of characters 
which, in later ages, appear disconnected in different types, 
exhibits thought, prophetic thought, foresight; combinations 
of thought preceding their manifestation in living forms. 

2*1 th. The parallelism between the gradation among animals 
and the changes they undergo during their growth, exhibits 
thought, as it discloses everywhere the most intimate connec- 
tion between essential features of animals which have no 
necessary physical relation, and can, therefore, not be under- 
stood as otherwise than as established by a thinking being. 

28th. The relations existing between these different series 
and the geographical distribution of animals, exhibit thought ; 
they show the omnipresence of the Creator. 
6 



62 COSMIC AL LAWS : § 40 

29th. The mutual dependence of the animal and vegetable 
kingdoms for their maintenance exhibits thought; it displays 
the care with which all conditions of existence, necessary to 
the maintenance of organized beings, have been balanced. 

30th. The dependence of some animals upon others or upon 
plants for their existence, exhibits thought ; it shows to what 
degree the most complicated combinations of structure and 
adaptation can be rendered independent of the physical con- 
ditions which surround them. 

§ 40. We may sum up the results of this discussion, up to 
this point, in still fewer words : — 

All organized beings exhibit in themselves all those cate- 
gories of structure and of existence upon which a natural 
system may be founded, in such a manner that, in tracing it, 
the human mind is only translating into human language the 
divine thoughts expressed in nature in living realities. 

All these beings do not exist in consequence of the con- 
tinued agency of physical causes, but have made their suc- 
cessive appearance upon earth by the immediate intervention 
of the Creator. As proof, I may sum up my argument in 
the following manner : — 

The products of what are commonly called physical agents 
are everywhere the same, (that is, upon the whole surface of 
the globe,) and have always been the same, (that is, during 
all geological periods;) while organized beings are every- 
where different, and have differed in all ages. Between two 
such series of phenomena there can be no casual or genetic 
connection. 

31st. The combination in time and space of all these 



§ 40 AGASSIZ' CLASSIFICATION. 63 

thoughtful conceptions exhibits not only thought ; it shows 
also premeditation, power, wisdom, greatness, prescience, 
omniscience, providence. 

In one word, all these facts in their natural connection 
proclaim aloud the one God, whom man may know, adore, 
and love ; and natural history must, in good time, become 
the analysis of the thoughts of the Creator of the universe, 
as manifested in the animal and vegetable kingdoms."* 

* Contributions to the Natural History of the United States of 
America, vol. i., part i., chap, i., sec. xxxii. 



EXISTENCE OF MATTER 8 41-42 



CHAPTER IV. 

FROM MATTER. 

a. Universal belief in some eternal existence. 

§ 41. The atheist concurs with the theist in holding that 
something must have existed from eternity, and that this 
something must have been unoriginated. If we examine 
the several schools of atheism we will find them all converge 
to this. He who holds that the earth is itself eternal ; he 
who believes in an original fire-mist out of which all subse- 
quent matter was evolved ; he who holds to a chance crea- 
tion, — each goes back to some primary existence, be it earth, 
or fire-mist, or random-atoms, which preceded this great 
universe. 

b. The atheist's eternity equally objectionable 
with the theist's. 

§ 42. The atheist, therefore, holds to a positive belief that 
is infected with all the objections that are raised against 
theism. For, 

Atheism, as well as theism, necessitates a belief in some- 
thing that is independent of the conditions of time and 
space. 

Atheism, as well as theism, holds to self-existence and 
e tern it v. 



§ 43 AS PROVING A GOD. 65 

c. Incomprehensibility of eternity not conclusive. 

§ 43. There is, however, a general objection, which may 
here be noticed. Eternity and self- existence are themes too 
mysterious to be contemplated ; and, as mysteries, they 
should, therefore, be rejected. To this the answer is twofold. 

a 1 . To assert incomprehensibility is begging the question. 
How can eternity be mysterious unless it exists ? Nor is an 
inability to comprehend a thing a valid ground for skepticism 
as to its existence. " There is a mystery about a plenum, and 
a mystery about a vacuum," to paraphrase one of Dr. John- 
son's remarks, "but one must be true." There is a mystery 
about soul and about body, and yet we must believe in one, 
if not both. 

b\ Experience tells us that it is limit which is artificial, 
not infinitude. Infinitude is nothing more than limit untied. 
Take, for instance, the effect of the magnetic telegraph, 
which operates by destroying the obstructions by which the 
senses are impeded. Let us suppose, then, artificial obstruc- 
tions to be removed, and we fall back at once upon eternity 
as to time, and infinitude as to space.* 

There is an anecdote told by Mr. Rogers, in his " Table- 
Talk," which strikingly illustrates the unconscious confession 
by the human mind of this great truth. He was visiting 
a picture of the Transfiguration, in an Italian convent, and 
observed an old Benedictine monk silently looking on the 
same great scene. Day after day the poet repeated the 
visit, and day after day the monk was found at his post, 
gazing with an eye which seemed to view not so much the 

* See this more fully stated, post, g 129. 
6* 



66 atheism : § 44 

painting as the sublime fact behind it. At last Mr. E.ogers 
made an excuse for asking him a question which might draw 
out his opinion of the picture's artistic merits. " Sir," was 
the reply, "for fifty years have I paced to and fro in this 
chapel, — nearly three generations of monks have I seen pass 
away, and sink under those stone flags ; and, as I look up 
to that vision of our transfigured Lord, I begin to think that 
it is we who are the pictures, and that the reality." And 
is there any one who has watched the rapid course of human 
life, who has, in the record of nature, seen how even moun- 
tains and oceans have been marshaled at their posts and 
then dismissed at a divine command, but has felt that it is 
the created that is artificial, and the Creator alone that 
is real ? 

d. Desolateness of a godless universe. 

§ 44. Nowhere is this more vividly portrayed than by 
Jean Paul, in a celebrated paper, of which we give part of 
a translation by Mr. Carlyle. The author supposes himself 
to fall into a dream, which he prefaces as follows : — 

" The purpose of this fiction is the excuse of its bold- 
ness. Men deny the Divine existence with as little feeling 
as the most assert it. Even in our true systems we go on 
collecting mere words, playmarks and medals, as the misers 
do coins ; and not till late do we transform the words into 
feelings, the coins into enjoyments. A man may, for twenty 
years, believe in the immortality of the soul ; in the one- 
and-twentieth, in some great moment, he, for the first time, 
"^discovers, with amazement, the rich meaning of this belief 
and the warmth of this naphtha well. 



§ 44 ITS DESOLATENESS. 6T 

" Of such sort, was my terror at the poisonous, stifling 
vapor which floats out around the heart of him who, for the 
first time, enters the school of atheism. I could, with less 
pain, deny immortality than Deity ; there I should lose but 
a world covered with mists, here I should lose the present 
world, namely, the sun thereof; the whole spiritual universe 
is dashed asunder, by the hand of atheism, into numberless 
quicksilver points of me's, which glitter, run, waver, fly to- 
gether or asunder, without unity or continuance. Xo one 
in creation is so alone as the denier of G-od ; he mourns, 
with an orphaned heart that has lost its great Father, ~by 
the corpse of Xature, which no world-spirit moves and holds 
together, and which grows in its grave ; and he mourns by 
that corpse till he himself crumbles off from it. The whole 
world lies before him like the Egyptian sphinx of stone, 
half-buried in the sand ; and the All is the cold, iron mask 
of a formless eternity. " 

Of the remarkable dream that follows, itself the most 
brilliant production of a very brilliant writer, the following 
passage is all that can be at present extracted : — 

" I was lying once, on a summer evening, in the sunshine, 
and I fell asleep. Methought I awoke in the churchyard. 
The down-rolling wheels of the steeple clock, which was 
striking eleven, had woke me. In the emptied night-heaven 
I looked for the sun ; for I thought an eclipse was veiling 
him with the moon. All the graves were open, and the iron 
doors of the charnel-houses were swinging to and fro by in- 
visible hands. On the walls flitted shadows which pro- 
ceeded from no one, and other shadows stretched upward 
in the pale air. In the open coffins none now lay sleeping 



68 DESOLATENESS OF ATHEISM. § 44 

but the children. Over the whole heaven hung, in large 
folds, a gray, sultry mist, which a giant shadow like vapor 
was drawing down nearer, closer, and hotter. Above me I 
heard the distant fall of avalanches ; under me the first step 
of a boundless earthquake. The church wavered up and 
down with two interminable dissonances, which struggled 
with each other in it, endeavoring in vain to mingle in 
unison. At times a gray glimmer hovered along the win- 
dows, and under it the lead and iron fell down molten. The 
net of the mist and the tottering earth brought me into that 
hideous temple, at the door of which, in two poison bushes, 
two glittering basalisks lay brooding. I passed through 
unknown shadows, on whom ancient centuries were im- 
pressed. All the shadows were standing around the empty 
altar ; and in all, not the heart, but the breast quivered and 
pulsed. One dead man only, who had just been buried 
there, still lay in his coffin without quivering breast ; and 
on his smiling countenance stood a happy dream ; but, at 
the entrance of one living, he awoke, and smiled no longer ; 
he lifted his heavy eyelids, but within was no eye ; and in his 
beating breast there lay, instead of a heart, a wound. He 
held up his hands and folded them to pray, but the arms 
lengthened out and dissolved ; and the hands, still folded to- 
gether, fell away. Above, on the church dome, stood the 
dial-plate of Eternity, whereon no number appeared, and 
which was its own index ; but a black finger pointed there- 
on, and the dead sought to see by it." 



§ 45 DESIGN IN NATURE. 69 



CHAPTER V. 

FROM DESIGN IN NATURE. 

§ 45. In a fragment of Aristotle, preserved by Cicero, in 
his treatise De Naturd Deorum, we find the following strik- 
ing passage : — 

"If there were beings who lived in the depths of the 
earth, in dwellings adorned with statues and paintings, and 
everything which is possessed in rich abundance by those 
whom we esteem fortunate ; and if these beings could receive . 
tidings of the power and might of the gods, and could then 
emerge from their hidden dwellings through the open fissures 
of the earth to the places we inhabit ; if they could suddenly 
behold the earth, and the sea, and the vault of heaven ; could 
recognize the expanse of the cloudy firmament, and the 
might of the winds of heaven, and admire the sun in its ma- 
jestic beauty and radiant effulgence ; and lastly, when night 
veiled the earth in darkness, they could behold the starry 
heavens, the changing moon, and the stars rising and setting 
in their unvarying course, ordained from eternity, they would 
surely exclaim, ' there are gods, and such great things must 
be the work of their hands !' " 

From this stand-point, to which our very familiarity with 
these great spectacles requires that we should elevate our- 
selves in order to understand them, let us view, 



1Q THE OCEAN : § 46-41 

a. The ocean. — Let us observe in this connection, 

a 1 . The sea-breeze. 

§ 46. To render a tropical country habitable, or at least 
to preserve in it health and comfort, what design would we, 
a priori, consider better than the periodical introduction of 
a breeze whose coolness and whose strength would relieve 
the heat of noon ? Now this is what the sea-breeze does. 
The more tropical the climate, the more regular its approach 
and the more steady its continuance. "Usually," says 
Mr. Gosse, when speaking of the tropics, "about the hour 
of ten in the forenoon, when the heat of the sun begins to 
be oppressive, a breeze from the sea springs up, invigorating 
and refreshing the body by its delightful coolness, and con- 
tinues to blow through the whole day, gradually dying away 
as the sun sinks to the horizon. Then about eight in the 
evening, an air blows off the land until near sunrise.; but 
this is somewhat variable and irregular, always fainter than 
the sea-breeze, and dependent on the proximity of moun- 
tains. The application of what has been already said of the 
causes of wind in general will be readily made to these par- 
ticular cases, the air on the surface of the water being cooler 
during the day, and that on the mountains during the night. 
Either is a grateful alleviation of the oppressive sultriness 
of the climate."* To this may be added the peculiarly re- 
freshing qualities of the salt with which the sea-breeze is 
freighted. 

ft 1 . The ocean salts. 

§ 41. "ftiree things we would suppose necessary, a priori, 

* Gosse, on the Ocean, p. 31. 



§47 PROOF OF CONTRIVANCE. 11 

in such a body as the ocean : first, such superior lightness 
as will make it a fit medium for the commerce of the world ; 
secondly, such an amount of mobility and circulation as will 
afford highways for travel, as well as a preservative agency 
to the sea itself; thirdly, the material from which those num- 
berless tribes by which the deep is thronged, may construct 
their homes. A T ow in view of such a design, what could be 
more effective than the salts by which the ocean is perme- 
ated ? By them the specific gravity of the water is so far 
increased as to add materially to the buoyancy of whatever 
solids are placed in it. And the compensations by which 
this quality is maintained are no less worthy of notice. If 
a similar solution was placed in a vessel exposed to the sun, 
there would soon be little left besides a dry saline crust. But 
by a most delicate adjustment of the exquisite accuracy of 
which science can best judge by the results, the water evapo- 
rated by the sun is so far restored by the rivers as to retain 
throughout the vast volume the same specific gravity and. 
the same saline admixture. 

These salts contribute largely to that great system of 
oceanic circulation on which commerce so much depends. 
Fresh water is but feebly affected by the dynamical impulses 
set on foot by changes of temperature ; salt water, through 
its peculiar contraction as its temperature lowers, is so agi- 
tated as to produce those great currents which form the 
ocean railways. From this we have a " surface current of 
saltish water from the poles toward the equator, and an un- 
der current of water Salter and heavier from the equator to 
the poles. This under current supplies, in a great measure, 



12 the ocean : § 48 

the salt which the upper current, freighted with fresh water 
from the clouds and rivers, carries back. Thus it is to the 
salts of the seas that we owe that feature in the system of 
oceanic circulation which causes an under current to flow 
from the Mediterranean into the Atlantic, and another from 
the Red Sea into the Indian Ocean. Hence, too, we infer 
that the transportation of warm water from the equator to- 
ward the frozen regions of the poles, is facilitated ; and con- 
sequently here, in the saltness" of the sea, "have we not an 
agent by which climates are mitigated — by which they are 
softened and rendered more salubrious than it would be pos- 
sible for them to be were the waters of the ocean deprived of 
their property of saltness ?"* 

§ 48. To the salts, but more particularly to the solutions 
of lime which the fresh water streams pour into the ocean in 
such large amounts, we owe another very important element 
in the marine economy. It is here that the little builders of 
the ocean find the quarries from which their houses are con- 
structed. Hence come the stone and the mortar which is 
worked into the creviceless dome which rises over the oyster's 
home. Hence come the minarets which form at once the 
guards and the ornaments of one species, and the peaked 
spear-heads which strengthen the armor of another. Here 
it is that the masons of the coral bank find their stone. 
When we recollect the myriads of creatures whose happiness 
is promoted and whose life secured by this process, we 
may well, as we look at the limestone rivulet that washes 

* Maury, Phys. Geog. of the Sea, § 316, &c 



§ 49 PROOF OF CONTRIVANCE. f3 

the mountain side, admire the wisdom and goodness by which 
its ingredients are composed and its course is directed. For 
it goes to aid in building innumerable cities to be inhabited 
by an active and useful population, — a population whose 
members not only subserve their immediate end as parts of 
the great chain of created beings, but perform an important 
office in maintaining that balance of life without which man 
himself would cease to exist. 

For by them is no small part of the great work of the 
movement of the waters carried on. We all know in how 
short a time a comparatively small body of insects — the sol- 
dier-ant, for instance — is capable of undermining a solid 
wall. But here, in an element in a vast degree more sus- 
ceptible to their subtle action, we have myriads upon myriads 
of artificers at work. Thither they proceed, these hod-men 
of the seas, carrying away from its ocean beds their count- 
less little loads of mortar, of salts, and of solids. "How 
much solid matter," says the same intelligent observer whom 
we have just quoted, "does the whole host of marine plants 
and animals abstract from sea water daily ? Is it a thousand 
pounds, or a thousand millions of tons ? No one can say. 
But whatever be its weight, it is so much of the power of 
gravity applied to the dynamical forces of the ocean. And 
this power is derived from the salts of the sea, through the 
agency of sea-shells and other marine animals. Yet they 
have power to put the whole sea in motion, from the equator 
to the poles, and from top to bottom." 

c 1 . The Gulf Stream. 

§49. Assuming, at the outset, the division of the earth 



T4 THE GULF STREAM : § 49 

into zones, of such a character as to generate variety of pro- 
duce and of character, and hereby to promote enterprise, 
both in commerce and in productive industry, it must follow, 
that large sections, unless some compensatory process be 
adopted, will be so far removed from the mean temperature 
as to be unsuitable for human habitation. Thus, without 
some such process, England, Norway, Sweden, and even the 
north of France, would be desolated on the one side by cold, 
and the islands of the Caribbean Sea, and the countries bor- 
dering on the Gulf of Mexico, by heat. What process 
would we suppose an intelligent and beneficent Creator 
to adopt to equalize these extremes, by drawing from 
the one to the other the excess of heat, and by throwing 
back the excess of cold ? 

Now, before we answer this question, let us suppose that 
we visit, in the dead of winter, one of the larger and more 
complete hot-houses, by which the vegetables and fruits of 
summer are brought to the market in early spring. There, 
where all the skill of recent experience is brought to bear, 
we will find, in a cellar under an out-house, a large boiler, in 
which water is heated. From this pipes are taken to a 
chamber, where they are so flared out as to raise to a high 
degree of heat a given body of air, which is afterwards 
taken by a hot air-pipe to the green-house. The water, 
being cooled, is collected again in a single pipe, and thus 
returned to the boiler to be re-heated. Again the circuit is 
commenced, and again completed, and so on until the de- 
sired temperature is reached. So it is, that, by a very 
simple and yet beautiful apparatus, the climate of summer 



§ 49 PROOF OF CONTRIVANCE. 75 

is diffused, where otherwise the cold of winter would pre- 
vail, and a perennial verdure and fructification main- 
tained. 

Those who acquiesce in the contrivance displayed in such 
an apparatus as this, may be well taken to view a similar 
mechanism, though on an infinitely grander scale, in the 
Gulf Stream. It is, as Lieutenant Maury has shown us 
with great beauty, as if the Mexican Gulf and the Carib- 
bean Sea were the cauldrons, the torrid zone the furnace, 
and the grand ocean sweep between the Grand Banks of 
Newfoundland and the shores of Europe the reservoir, into 
which the warm waters of the Gulf Stream, which is the 
pipe, are so played as to produce the maximum of effect. 
For, to use the striking language of this capable observer, 
" there is a river in the ocean. In the severest droughts it 
never fails, and in the mightiest floods it never overflows. 
Its banks and its bottom are of cold water, while its current 
is of warm. The Gulf of Mexico is its fountain, and its 
mouth is in the Arctic seas. It is the Gulf Stream. There 
is in the world no more majestic flow of waters. Its current 
is more rapid than the Mississippi or the Amazon." 

Let us watch, then, in this view, the progress of this ex- 
traordinary river, as it proceeds on its mission of equalizing 
the heats of the countries which it touches. The burning 
Mexican plains, where the river begins, contribute the fuel. 
There, as we are told, "the quantity of specific heat daily 
carried off by the Gulf Stream from these regions and dis- 
charged over the Atlantic, is sufficient to raise mountains of 
iron from zero to the melting-point, and to keep in flow 



16 THE GULF STREAM: §50 

from them a molten stream of metal greater in volume than 
the waters daily discharged from the Mississippi River." 
From the Caribbean Sea the cooler water is supplied. It 
enters this vast basin through the southern line of the chan- 
nel, which is guarded by Yucatan and Florida, and then, 
with a temperature, at the depth of four hundred and fifty 
fathoms, of but 43°, it increases, when it passes from the fur- 
nace, 40° in heat. Through its watery banks, which are so 
sharp and well marked, that a vessel may lie on the dividing- 
line and touch the two distinct strata on each side, it passes 
on, at a maximum temperature of 86°, until, after having 
traversed three thousand miles, it retains a summer warmth 
in the depth of winter. "With this temperature it crosses 
the fortieth degree of north latitude, and there, overflowing 
its liquid banks, it spreads itself out for thousands of square 
leagues over the cold waters around, and covers the ocean 
with a mantle of warmth that serves so much to mitigate in 
Europe the rigors of winter. Moving now more slowly, but 
dispensing its genial influences more freely, it finally meets 
the British Islands. By these it is divided, one part going 
into the Polar basin of Spitzbergen, the other entering into 
the Bay of Biscay, but each with a warmth considerably 
above the ocean temperature." 

§ 50. Let us first view its effect on England. The port 
of Liverpool is never closed with ice; it is 2° farther north 
than that of St. Johns, Newfoundland, which, being frozen 
half the year, is of course incapable of sustaining commerce. 
Let us look, for a moment, at the consequences, had the 
same bands existed round the English coast. Cowper has 



§50 PROOF OF CONTRIVANCE. *[*{' 

well described the spectacle that now awaits the visitor to 
those shores : — 

From side to side of her delightful isle 
Is she not clothed with a perpetual smile, 
Her fields a ri,ch expanse of wavy corn, 
Poured out from plenty's overflowing horn ; 
Her peaceful shores, where busy commerce waits 
To pour his golden tide through all her gates ? 

This scene would be changed to one where ice-choked 
ports would be fed only by rivers, themselves frozen half the 
year, and where a mist, as constant as that of Labrador, 
would give through its fissures and breaks only sunlight 
enough to mature the coarsest grain. From such a climate 
commerce would be excluded, and agriculture would obtain 
but a scanty subsistence. The England of our fathers, and 
the England of our own clays, would never have existed. It 
is one of the properties of that peculiar climate — the 
bracing winters, and the springs and summers, gradual, 
equal, and genial, as well as of the seafaring habits it pro- 
duces — to generate a race, which, whether it remains at 
home or follows Raleigh and Davenport to American fo- 
rests, or charges with Clive on the hosts at Arcot, always 
has maintained the same indomitable energy, the same stur- 
diness of moral character, the same indifference to the dra- 
matic, but profound appreciation of the real, which led not 
only to the English reformation and to American colonization, 
not only to the revolution that made William of Orange King, 
and that which made George Washington President, but 
to the publication of Protestant doctrines and free principles 
throughout the globe. Our own land would not have re- 
T* 



18 THE GULF STREAM: §50 

mained undiscovered, but it would have been approached, 
not through the rugged rocks and scanty sea-board, but 
through the northern or southern entrances to the Missis- 
sippi valley. Those who visit that superb domain will con- 
cur in the remark, that had the valley of the Mississippi 
been known in time, the ravine-broken and stormy coast 
that lies east of the Alleghanies would never have been 
populated. The light and sociable French, or the indolent 
Spaniards, would not have hesitated. The magnificent 
tract which lies between the Rocky Mountains and the Alle- 
ghanies would have been their seat. There, cathedrals, like 
those of Mexico, would have arisen, to be thronged with a 
Creole race, in which the less worthy traits in each compo- 
nent element would have formed a servile union. No ad- 
venturous seamen would have thence sprung, to vex the 
remotest seas with their harpoons, and to exchange the 
produce of their native fields for the staples of foreign 
lands. The curling vapor over the salt-wells of the Kana- 
wha ; the heavy pall of smoke which now shrouds Pittsburg, 
and Zanesville, and Wheeling; the stern-wheel boat that, 
like a water-spider, and drawing hardly any more water, 
jerks up the shallow tributary, and the steam-hotel that tra- 
verses in state the mighty river ; the snort of the locomotive, 
as, rather like a panther than a horse, it couches in the lair 
of the tunnel, and then springs onward to another tunnel 
over its air-line of tressel-work ; the fierce glare of the furnace, 
as its blaze, stirred by the iron rod of the engineer, is seen 
along the river for miles through the midnight air, — these 
things would not have been noticed. In their place, it is 



§51 PROOF OF CONTRIVANCE. *I9 

true, a gay and contented peasantry, such as that we some- 
times meet along the banks of the St. Lawrence, might have 
filled the prairies of the central Mississippi, and perhaps 
worked the sugar plantations of what was once New France. 
But in losing the stern discipline of a less propitious clime ; 
in losing those hereditary traits of energy, of self-reliance, 
of personal inquiry, which a descent through a hardy and 
industrious ancestry produces ; in losing the Protestant faith, 
— the colonies would have lost those elements which were 
to produce their ultimate national independence. 

§ 51. What a difference to the world would have been 
worked by the reversal of this he at- equalizing agent it is 
not necessary here to discuss. It may be enough to say, 
that, if by this the Anglo-Saxon race had failed to acquire 
those energies which, by giving it the control of commerce, 
have given it the grand central distributing engine by which 
alone opinion is to be disseminated over the globe, the des- 
tinies of mankind in the future, as well as their liberties and 
faith in the past, would have been sadly altered. And when, 
as we may believe, to this island of England, so sea-tempered 
as to produce energy and virtue in their best human form, 
and to her empire-colonies of America — no less her colonies 
in lineage because no longer so in civil dependency — is to 
be assigned the great work of universally publishing evan- 
gelical faith and civil equality, we may well see something 
more than a mere economical purpose in that decree which 
turned the Gulf Stream from its Caribbean feeders into a 
canal, whose banks are themselves water, and directed it to 
flow through this same strange channel for three thousand 
miles, until it reach those shores which it is to temper. 



80 CLIMATE : § 52 

b. Climate. 

§ 52. It is not proposed to consider here at large the influ- 
ence of climate. One or two remarks, however, may be casu- 
ally thrown out with regard to those discriminations, which 
seem at the first view inconsistent with an equal benevolence. 

a 1 . Its alternations as producing contentment and 
patriotism,. 

The severe climates are not the subjects of deprecia- 
tion by those who live in them. On the contrary, the 
sympathy of others with those who inhabit such climates, 
like that of the wealthy anarchist in Canning's admirable 
satire of the needy knife-grinder, is entirely uninvited by 
those on whom it is spent. Nowhere is there so strong and 
deep a love of country as that engendered in these same in- 
hospitable climes. Nostalgia, or home-sickness, (heimweh,) 
is almost entirely confined to the inhabitants of mountainous 
and sterile soils. " It is remarkable," says Dr. Rush,* "that 
this disease is most common among the natives of countries 
that are least desirable for beauty, fertility, climate, or the 
luxuries of life." And Goldsmith thus touches on the 
same point, — 

The intrepid Swiss that guards a foreign shore, 
Condemned to climb his mountain-cliffs no more, 
If chance he hear the song, so sweetly wild, 
Which, on those cliffs, his infant hour beguiled, 
Melts at the long-lost scenes that round him rise, 
And sinks a martyr to repentant sighs. 

* Rush, on the Mind, pp. 38, 39. 



, 



§ 53 DESIGN IN ITS ALTERNATIONS. 81 

Those who have watched over a collection of boys, drawn, 
as is often the case in our own country, from a wide diversity 
of climates and soils, will recollect how it is that those 
homes are most pined after which, in a worldly point of 
view, are the least inviting. The cottage by the mountain- 
side, in which a rigid economy abridges even the few com- 
forts which a hard soil and a narrow estate permit, plays in 
a sweet pathos before the sleeping vision of the boy, the 
dreams of whose next neighbor flit but lightly back to what 
the world would consider the infinitely superior charms of a 
luxurious city home. 

ft 1 . As producing home virtues. 

§53. These climates are accompanied by , home-enjoy- 
ments which are, in an eminent degree, bracing and comfort- 
ing. Such a result, in fact, is incidental to the domestic 
life which a cold climate generates. Take, for instance, the 
inclement winter of England, which drives the family around 
the fireside, and compare it with the warmth of that genial 
French and Italian sky which draws them to the open field, 
or to the roadside where the village takes the place of the 
home. In the one scene, it is true, we see much that is plain 
and coarse. The rude and sometimes austere manner which, 
to strangers, will be absolutely harsh ; the home-spun dress, 
cut in the most uncouth shape, arise, it cannot but be con- 
fessed, often from an entire want of perception of those 
graces and elegancies which give polite society one of its chief 
charms. But with these ruder qualities there is a deep and 
passionate domestic affection which pierces to the recesses of 
the hearts of those on whom it acts, and draws up from them 
the pure waters of a remunerative love. With this there is 



82 climate: §53 

a practical, personal sense of responsibility to God, which is 
so apt to be lost where home is merged in society, and an 
equally conscientious, though perhaps reserved and undemon- 
strative sense -of responsibility toward others. Such a pic- 
ture as that which Burns gives us in his " Cotter's Saturday 
Night" could not be drawn in France, unless, perhaps, 
among those hills where the Huguenots found refuge. On 
the other hand, we shall be equally at a loss to discover, un- 
der the vicissitudes of even the most genial climates of our 
own land, and shall more so under the austere sky of Eng- 
land, scenes such as that where 

France displays her bright domain, 
Gay, sprightly land of mirth and social ease, 
Pleased with herself, whom all the world can please. 

But grace is here dearly bought when the price is the sur- 
render of home seclusion, and the merging of the real in 
the dramatic. If it should turn out that we are to make 
choice between the reserved earnestness of the domestic 
affections and the pictorial elegance of the social, we can- 
not but determine that the former is most conducive to a 
higher order of happiness. Tennyson tells us that 

'Tis better to have loved and lost 
Than never to have loved at all ; 

and the practical experience of all is that none would 
part even with a grief, if with it is to go the memory of an 
earnest affection. There is still less ground for a compari- 
son, if one must needs be made, between the home and the 
social affections when each is in successful play. For the 
difference is the old one between happiness and pleasure ; 



§ 54 DESIGN IN ITS ALTERNATIONS. 83 

between the exercise of the healthy impulses of the heart 
in the view of conscience, and the display of its sensibilities 
in the eye of others ; between a real and relied on recipro- 
cation of affection, and a mere complimentary obeisance, 
paid out and received as such. 

§ 54. To this it may be added, that a wide field of objects 
of enjoyment is not always accompanied by an increased 
capacity in enjoying. As the circuit of the instrument in- 
creases, its power of perception is weakened. The micro- 
scope may unfold the beauties of atom-worlds that lie in a 
butterfly's dust, but to do this it must be pointed to that dust 
alone. By increasing its range, we may see an hundredfold 
more objects superficially, but we will not see one entire. 
Thus it is that the frugal dweller by the hillside has often 
many more luxuries than the wealthy inhabitant of the city. 
For, as the latter's wealth increases, his luxuries diminish, 
until, when there is none which his wealth cannot purchase 
without self-denial, they cease to exist. All who have ex- 
perienced an increase of wealth know how it is accompanied 
by a diminution of objects of real and innocent delight. 
What we called "treats," in more frugal days, have ceased 
to exist, just in the same way as there can be no holiday 
when all is vacation.* 



* Charles Lamb has developed this thought with great 
beauty in the following passage from his letter ou "Broken 
China": — "I wish the good old times would come again," she 
said, " when we were not quite so rich. I do not mean that I 
want to be poor ; but there was a middle state," — so she was 
pleased to ramble on, — " in which I am sure we were a great deal 
happier. A purchase is but a purchase, now that you have money 



84 SMALL MEANS § 54. 

To these considerations it may be added, that human 
pleasure, so far from increasing, rather diminishes in the 
inverse ratio of its concentration. 

'Tis pleasure to a certain bound, 
Beyond 'tis agony. 



enough and to spare. Formerly it used to be a triumph. When 
we coveted a cheap luxury (and oh, how much ado I had to get 
you to consent in those times !) we were used to have a debate 
two or three days before, and to weigh the for and against, and 
think what we might spare it out of, and what saving we could 
hit upon that should be an equivalent. A thing was worth buy- 
ing then when we felt the money that we paid for it. 

" Do you remember the brown suit which you made to hang 
upon you till all your friends cried shame upon you, it grew so 
threadbare, and all because of that folio which you dragged home 
late at night from Barker's, in Covent Garden ? Do you remem- 
ber how we eyed it for weeks before we could make up our minds 
to the purchase, and had not come to a determination till it was 
nearly ten o'clock of the Saturday night, when you set off from 
Islington, fearing you should be too late ? And when the old 
bookseller, with some grumbling, opened his shop, and, by the 
twinkling taper, (for he was setting bedwards,) lighted out the 
relic from his dusty treasures ; and when you lugged it home, 
wishing it were twice as cumbersome ; and when you presented it 
to me, and when we were exploring the perfectness of it, (collat- 
ing you called it ;) and while I was repairing some of the loose 
leaves with paste, which your impatience would not suffer to be 
left till daybreak, — was there no pleasure in being a poor man ? 
or, can those neat, black clothes which you wear now, and are so 
careful to keep brushed, since we have become rich and finical, 
give you half the honest vanity with which you flaunted it about 
in that overworn suit — your old corbeau — for four or five weeks 
longer than you should have done, to pacify your conscience, for 
the mighty sum of fifteen, or sixteen shillings was it ? — a great 
affair we thought it then, which you had lavished on the old folio. 



§ 54 NOT UNHAPPINESS. 85 

Nor do the perceptions retain that tentative power which 
enables them to hold, for any length of time, their grasp on 
the objects of sensual or even of intellectual enjoyments. 



Now you can afford to buy any book that pleases you, but I do 
not see that you ever bring me home any nice old purchases 
now. 

" When you came home with twenty apologies for laying out a 
less number of shillings upon that print after Lionardo, which 
we christened the 'Lady Blanche ;' when you looked at the pur- 
chase and thought of the money, — and thought of the money and 
looked again at the picture, — was there no pleasure in being a 
poor man? Now you have nothing to do but to walk into Ool- 
naghi's and buy a wilderness of Lionardoes. Yet do you ? 

" Then, do you remember our pleasant walks to Enfield and 
Potter's bar, and Walthani, when we had a holiday, — holidays 
and all other fun are gone, now we are rich ; and the little hand- 
basket, in which I used to deposit our day's fare of savory cold 
lamb and salad ; and how you would pry about at noontide for 
some decent house where we might go in and produce our store, 
only paying for the ale that you must call for ; and speculate 
upon the looks of the landlady, and whether she was likely to 
allow us a table-cloth ; and wish for such another honest hostess 
as Izaak Walton has described many a one on the pleasant banks 
of the Lea, when he went a fishing ; and sometimes they would 
prove obliging enough, and sometimes they would look grudg- 
ingly upon us, but we had cheerful looks still for one another, 
and would eat our plain food savorily, scarcely grudging 
Piscator his Trout Hall ? Now, when we go out a day's plea- 
suring, which is seldom, moreover we ride part of the way, and 
go into a fine inn and order the best of dinners, never debating 
the expense, which, after all, never has half the relish of those 
chance country snaps, when we were at the mercy of uncertain 
usage and precarious welcome. 

" There was pleasure in eating strawberries before they became 
quite common ; in the first dish of peas, while they were yet dear, 
to have them for a nice supper, a treat. What treat can we have 
8 



86 SMALL MEANS NOT UNHAPPINESS. § 54 

The tendons relax and the sensibilities recoil ; and at length 
the appetite turns in indifference, if not disgust, from that 
on which it has been satisfied. And the more the taste is 
pampered, the more fastidious it becomes, the more diffi- 
culty it has in finding an object on which it can rest. If the 



now ? If we were to treat ourselves now, that is, to have dain- 
ties a little above our means, it would be selfish and wicked. It 
is the very little more that we allow ourselves, beyond what the 
actual poor can get at, that makes what I call a treat. When 
two people, living together as we have done, now and then in- 
dulge themselves in a cheap luxury which both like, while each 
apologizes, and is willing to take both halves of the blame to his 
single share, I see no harm in people making much of themselves, 
in that sense of the word. It may give them a hint how to make 
much of others. But now, what I mean by the word, — we never 
do make much of ourselves. None but the poor can do it. I do 
not mean the veriest poor of all, but persons as we were, just 
above poverty. 

" I know what you were going to say, that it is mighty pleasant 
at the end of the year to make all meet ; and much ado we used 
to have every thirty-first night of December to account for our 
exceedings ; many a long face did you make over your puzzled 
accounts, and, in contriving to make it out, how we had spent so 
much — or that we had not spent so much — or that it was impos- 
sible we should spend so much next year — and still we found our 
slender capital decreasing ; but then, betwixt ways and projects, 
and compromises of one sort or another, and talk of curtailing 
this charge, and doing without that for the future, and the hope 
that youth brings, buoyant and laughing spirits, (in which you 
were never poor till now,) we pocketed up our loss ; and, in con- 
clusion, with ' lusty brimmers,' (as you used to quote it out of 
hearty, cheerful Mr. Cotton, as you called him,) we used to wel- 
come in 'the coming guest.' Now we have no reckoning at all 
at the end of the old year ; no flattering promises about the new 
year doing better for us." 



§ 55 CLIMATE : DESIGN IN ITS ALTERNATIONS. 8? 

other alternative be taken,, and a capacity for more con- 
tinued sensual enjoyment be secured, then comes premature 
old age and decay, if not remorse. 

It may be partly from this fact, and partly from the heroic 
virtues which a life of austere early culture produces, that 
it is to these sterile countries that we are to look as the 
nurseries whence spring the races by which great empires 
are founded. 

These remarks may be taken as introductory to the follow- 
ing observations on the effect of the alternation of seasons. 

c 1 . As necessitating labor. 

§ 55. The few countries in which we find a fertile soil and 
an equal and genial climate, are those in which men are the 
most abject. Mr. Ellis gives us an example taken from the 
Otaheitans. They have a soil eminent for its richness, a cli- 
mate for its equal and generous benignity. They live, how- 
ever, almost as brutes on the spontaneous produce of the 
soil, and when urged to work, though only to the slight ex- 
tent which is necessary to bring them to the comforts of 
civilization, they reply: "We should like these things very 
well, but we cannot have them without working ; that we do 
not like, and therefore would rather do without them. The 
bananas and plantains ripen on the trees ; the pigs fatten on 
the fruits that fall beneath them. These are all we want. 
Why then should we work ?" 

This inquiry, however, is one which the seasons, in by far 
the greater part of the habitable globe, do not permit to be 
put. The keen air of autumn braces the nerves, and the 
necessities of winter call hunger into that council of war 
in which the physical energies make their appearance, all 



88 climate : § 55 

whetted and armed for the great battle with nature, for 
which the early spring is clearing the way. Other allies 
soon appear. The sun does his part in lifting off the barri- 
cades of snow and ice, and softening the frosted gates of the 
rigid earth so as to let the invader readily in. Xecessity, 
energy, the cheering calls of the opening season, the plea- 
sure and triumph of that fruition which the gradual deve- 
lopment of the year makes coincident with toil, combine to 
spur the husbandman to his post. And not the least benefi- 
cent part of this arrangement is the provision which brings 
on the several harvests in a measured procession. Those 
who, even under our own evenly distributed harvest system 
have chanced to visit a village when the wheat is being 
gathered in — who have seen how all the available male force, 
from the old man who is all the rest of the summer a fixture 
in the porch, down to the stable-boy whom the traveler de- 
pends upon to put up his horse, are at work harvesting, will 
understand the object of the arrangement by which the seve- 
ral crops, beginning with the hardy early vegetable, and 
ending with the no less hardy winter fruit, mature at distinct 
intervals. For the wheel of the seasons is regularly cogged, 
and as each cog comes on in its turn, it moves a distinct pro- 
cess of vegetation. Were it not so, the neat but small farm 
of the growing but still not rich farmer would cease to exist. 
When the harvest came there would be a sweep made for 
hands. As the capitalist saw his ripening corn, which a day 
or two longer would kill, he would force from his weaker 
neighbor whatever aid his wealth or his power enable him 
to secure. To bring in the full harvest, also, would require 
a large increase of the present agricultural population, and 



§ 56 DESIGN IN ITS ALTERNATIONS. 89 

would in this way greatly derange the balance so necessary 
between the several industrial Glasses. Besides, let us ob- 
serve the momentous consequences which would follow from 
a concentration of the several harvests. Now, when one 
crop fails, another remains. When improvidence or adverse 
weather kills the wheat that may be planted in the fall, April 
still remains open for oats, May for Indian-corn and for po- 
tatoes. So the storm of August may still follow the benig- 
nant sky of July, or precede that of September ; and the 
harvest-home, which may be desolate one month, may abound 
in beauty and richness the next. 

d l . As generating energy, patience, and a sense of the 
beautiful. 

§56. Let us observe, in addition, the moral and social 
effects produced by this development of the seasons, distin- 
guished as it is by a combination of general laws with spe- 
cial adaptations. Napoleon said during the hundred days, 
that society can only really move onward under two forces — 
governmental pressure and popular impulse ; and that it was 
in this respect like the ship which required the application 
of both wind and helm. So it is with the general laws of 
the seasons, producing both certainty enough to invoke steady 
work, and irregularities and special adaptations enough 
to generate enterprise, and at the same time an intelligent 
caution. By this same combination, while, on the one hand, 
the comprehensive wisdom of the Creator is displayed, on the 
other, by those immediate applications of a special divine 
will to human agency, man is made to know more deeply his 
entire dependence upon God. 

Nor should it be forgotten that to this alternation of sea- 
8* 



90 CLIMATE : § 51 

sons we owe, in part at least, the sanctities of home. Winter 
comes with ligatures in his hands, to bind not only the stream 
and the earth, but the family. He drives the fisherman 
from his nets, the plowman from the field, the child from 
the play-ground, and collects them around the hearth. There 
a new senate is convened — the senate of the family. The 
village may meet to preserve its ways and commons, the 
farmers may consult as to the best way to put down vermin 
and keep off horse-thieves; but the family has its special 
objects, the preservation of home peace, and the culture of 
the heart. In a little community, so closely bound together 
for several months each year, it is soon learned how neces- 
sary for the good of each as well as of the whole it is, to 
pass laws requiring self-denial, personal purity, refinement, 
and thoughtfulness as to others. The veneering of polite- 
ness, which is enough for the superficial use of the world, 
does not do here. There must be an interior refinement by 
the establishment (and unless in early childhood, how hard is 
this to be done !) of a good heart. Now is there any school 
like the family for this, or any school-house but the home ? 
And yet are we not indebted, if not to the school, at least for 
the school-house, to the pressure of winter ? 

§ 5T. Let us, however, rise, in considering the question, 
to a higher stand-point. Changing the method of stating 
the argument for a moment, let us suppose that there is an 
all-wise Creator, to whom, for purposes of His own, it seems 
good to excite certain tastes and establish certain principles 
in His creatures, not by compulsion, but in such a way as to 
preserve their moral agency. Let us suppose that among 
these tastes and principles are : — 



§ 58 DESIGN IN ITS ALTERNATIONS. 91 

a 2 . Appreciation of and love for beauty, particularly in 
connection with personal well-doing, and with a due objec- 
tive exhibition of order and law, so that such beauty may 
itself be the subject of orderly development. 

b 2 . The faculty of patient hope and faith in the future, 
connected with present labor. "It is this," says Dr. Paley, 
" which creates farmers, which divides the profit of the soil 
between the owner and occupier ; which, by requiring ex- 
pedients, by increasing employment, and by rewarding ex- 
penditure, promotes agricultural arts and agricultural life, 
of all modes of life the best, being the most conducive to 
health, to virtue, to enjoyment." 

c 2 . Fixed habits of industry as a necessary element in 
probation. 

d 2 . Belief in the transient and ephemeral character of 
such present state of probation, and in a more splendid and 
enduring existence hereafter. 

§ 58. Now, what spectacle could be devised grander or 
more impressive than that of the seasons ? We have here 
a most exquisite, as well as a most sublime mechanism con- 
structed. " The vegetable clock-work," says Mr. Whewell, 
"is so set as to go for a year." It is a clock-work whose 
dial-plate is the surface of the earth ; whose figures are 
marked by flowers and fruits, and whose hours are struck in 
turn by the voices of the air, the field, and the forest. But 
Mr. Whewell abridges the argument from contrivance when 
he states that the clock of the seasons goes but for a year ; 
for it is part of a great chronometer which the Artificer of 
the universe established before the beginning of time. Jean 
Paul, in one of his apothegms, brings before us an impressive 



92 CLIMATE — THE SEASONS : § 58 

picture of art as developed in the clock of St. Mary's, Lu- 
beck, which will exhibit the movements of the heavenly- 
bodies until 1815, when it must be reset. Dr. Paley, in 
illustration of the argument from contrivance, takes us to 
one of the ordinary time-pieces, against which he supposes 
his philosoper to stumble in crossing a field. Is not the 
argument strengthened, when the time the watch runs and 
the number of its combinations are multiplied ten thousand- 
fold ? And are we to recognize this progression of proof 
in the clock of art, which runs for years, and refuse it to the 
clock of Nature, which runs for ages ? 

To the beauty of the sights that the seasons unfold we 
may well turn, as reflecting not only the almighty power 
and skill of the Creator, but the tenderness with which He 
provides for His creatures sights of loveliness. The lan- 
guage of poetry, sometimes real, sometimes conventional, 
has been so intimately associated with the beauty of nature, 
that practical minds, when they hear anything like an accu- 
rate description of any of the exquisite scenes which the 
ocean, the meadow, or the sky afford, turn from it as if it 
were sentiment, not fact. But the delicate coloring of the 
spring flowers ; the emerald verdure of the early grain as it 
springs from the dark mould, — that dark mould itself at 
once the grave of past vegetation and the cradle of future ; 
the voices of the birds, those cheap orchestras of the 
poor; the rich and dark foliage of summer, and the gor- 
geous fruits of autumn, — all these things are facts, and are 
to be treated as such. Let us take, for instance, Bryant's 
exquisite description of Indian Summer : — 



§ 59-60 ITS MORAL TEACHING. 93 

And now when comes the calm, mild day, as oft such days will come, 
To tempt the squirrel and the bee from out their wintry home ; 
When the sound of dropping nuts is heard, though all the trees are still, 
And twinkle in the smoky light the ivaters of the rill ; 
The south wind searches for the flowers whose fragrance late he 

bore, 
And sighs to find them in the wood and by the stream no more. 

§ 59. Now, this is all reality, and each distinct feature, as 
it stands before us in its individual beauty, will be found to 
tell its specific message. And this message is not single ; 
for it combines several great truths. It tells us of that ten- 
derness which provides sights of beauty and repose for eyes 
weary with the sorrows and trials of probation. It accom- 
panies these spectacles with utterances of grandeur which 
make that tenderness, even if we view it by itself, still more 
wonderful and still more winning. It tells us of the patient 
endurance and love of order of the Almighty himself; and 
it asks us, if the Creator is thus forbearing and law- 
loving, what ought the creature to be. And, as the seed 
bursts both from its burial-place of last year to its resurrec- 
tion of the next, it proclaims the crowning truth of all : — 

" So ALSO IS THE RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD : IT IS 
SOWN IN CORRUPTION, IT IS RAISED IN INCORRUPTION ; IT IS 
SOWN IN DISHONOR, IT IS RAISED IN GLORY ; IT IS SOWN IN 
WEAKNESS, IT IS' RAISED IN POWER; IT IS SOWN A NATU- 
RAL BODY, IT IS RAISED A SPIRITUAL BODY." 

c. Watering the earth. 

§ 60. As we stand by the water- works in a large city, as, 
for instance, in Philadelphia, we find our recognition of the 



94 rain : § GO 

. amount of contrivance used to become the more vivid as the 
simplicity and efficiency of the mechanism become the more 
clear. We observe the dam by which the river is raised to 
a height which enables it to supply the water power. By 
the bank we observe the dark and dripping ribs of the 
giant wheels as they heavily perform their rounds. Under- 
neath us we can almost see the quivering recoils of the 
water, as by blow after blow it is beaten up the supply-pipes 
which lead to the top of the hill. Then comes the reservoir, 
whence the water is conducted through the great city 
below. The marble bath-tubs and the sparkling fountain in 
one mansion do not prove the usefulness of the contrivance 
more than the rough hydrant which supplies the stream by 
which the washerwoman plies her trade in another. It is a 
process which exhibits, in one of its highest grades, not only 
the skill but the beneficence of civilization. 

Let us look, however, from this to the watering-works of 
the skies. The sun, acting on the rivers and the sea, pro- 
duces a vapor which, while it raises, cleanses the water, 
which is then received into the reservoir of the clouds. Here 
it is held until the process is applied for its dispersion. A 
watering-pot is said to be an imitation of clouds, but at best 
the imitation is poor ; for the rain drops so softly, so 
equally, and in showers so patient, as to temper the system 
as well as to supply the thirst of the vegetation it affects. 
While the clouds are the reservoir, the sun is the forcing- 
pump, the vapor the supply-pipes, and the rain the distri- 
buting-pipes. And yet, we find contrivance in the water- 
works of the city, but refuse to see it in the infinitely 



§ 61 A MARK OF CONTRIVANCE. 95 

grander, and, at the same time, more delicate water-works 
of the skies. 

But how is this process of condensation carried on ? Let 
us look, before answering this question, at the peculiar con- 
figuration of the North American continent, taking this, for 
our purpose, as an illustration of the whole globe. We 
have, so far as the eastern half of the continent is concerned, 
two great surfaces of water from which rain may be con- 
densed, the Atlantic Ocean and the Gulf of Mexico ; and we 
have two great ranges of mountains acting as condensers. 
These ranges have no unimportant office to exercise in 
connection with the watering of the continent to which 
they belong. For, to adapt to them the eloquent language 
applied by Guyot to mountain ranges generally, they are 
"placed by Nature to rob the winds of their treasures, to 
serve as reservoirs for the rain-waters, and to distribute them 
afterwards, as they are needed, over the surrounding plains. 
Their wet and cloudy summits seem to be untiringly occu- 
pied with this important work. From their sides flow num- 
berless torrents and rivers, carrying in all directions wealth 
and life." 

§ 61. Let us look, for a moment, at the stream of warm 
air which arises from the Gulf of Mexico and from the Mis- 
sissippi Valley. There an excess of rain is peculiarly neces- 
sary to feed those great rivers by which that valley is 
watered. The ordinary processes of condensation would be 
inadequate for this purpose. It is here, however, that the 
Alleghanies and the Rocky Mountains come into play. The 
wind strikes first the lowlands, meeting, perhaps, with cur- 
rents as warm as itself, and, therefore, incapable of pro- 



96 NORTH AMERICAN GREAT PLAINS: §62 

during that condensation which results, when two volumes 
of atmosphere of different temperatures and of unlike de- 
grees of moisture come in contact. But soon the trade-winds 
from the Atlantic, and the moist and warm currents from 
the Gulf or the plains, ascend, till they touch the higher and 
cooler layers that hang around the mountain sides. This 
produces a rapid and copious condensation, and from this, 
on the eastern slope of the Rocky Mountains, flow the 
Northern Mississippi, the Missouri, the Yellowstone, the 
Platte, the Arkansas, the Red River, and the Rio Grande. 
Here, however, the process stops. Before these winds 
reach the summit this moisture is exhausted ; no more rain 
falls, because no more moisture is condensed. It is not 
until the western descent of these plains presents itself to 
the breezes that arise from the Pacific that rain begins to 
fall. It falls there, it is true, but lightly, for the south- 
western winds are much less fully freighted with moisture 
than the southeastern, yet in sufficient quantity to supply 
the comparatively moderate acquirements of the narrow 
Pacific coast, and to fill the sources of the only two rivers 
by which the coast is traversed, the Columbia and the Colo- 
rado. It leaves, however, between the western and eastern 
slopes, that area of rainless table-lands which we call the 
great plains.* 

§ 62. It may not be out of place to pause here for a mo- 
ment to observe that these great plains are not, after all, 
mere blanks in the expanse of creation. There, the gramma, 

* These views will be found elaborated by an article, by the pre- 
sent writer, in the North Am. Review for July, 1858, p. 66. 



§ 62 THEIR PURPOSES. 97 

or buffalo-grass, raises its spiral and hairlike, but nutritious 
and perennial moss; there, are water-works adapted to the 
peculiar wants of this thin and dry vegetation. The snow 
on the mountain-peaks behind melts at the approach of 
spring, falling in multitudinous threads over the great plains, 
and where it does not actually irrigate, softens the dense 
earth by its temporary vapor. There, the buffalo-grass pierces 
the hard soil with its delicate fibres, holding its seed in its 
root. There, as summer comes, the haymakers are at work, 
though they toil not with human hands, as the sun and the 
equal drought cure the hay on the ground. Hence it is 
that these great plains are the barns in which Divine wis- 
dom and benevolence stores away the feed for innumerable 
wild creatures who there find their meat in due season ; 
there the buffalo, (preserved in these parks from the rapa- 
city of man,) the wild horse, the elk, the deer, and the wild 
sheep, congregate in numbers which, in the aggregate, are 
estimated at an hundred million ; there the great fur-nursery 
of the Western future is seated. When the prairies are 
fenced into farms ; when the woods are leveled to pas- 
tures, here the wild beasts of the forests will find a refuge, 
itself as large as all Europe, where their lairs will be undis- 
turbed by the proximity of human habitation. And should 
a pastoral population, by the aid of the Artesian wells the 
Government is now projecting, find a home in these plains, 
it will not be without its appropriate nourishment and 
mission. "In these elevated countries," says a sagacious 
observer, " fresh meats become the preferable food for man, 
to the exclusion of bread, vegetables, and salted articles. 
The atmosphere of the great plains is perpetually brilliant 
9 



98 NORTH AMERICAN GREAT PLAINS: §63 

with sunshine, tonic, healthy, and inspiring to the temper. 
It corresponds with and surpasses the historic climate of 
Syria and Arabia, whence we inherit all that is ethe- 
real and refined in our system of civilization, our religion, 
our sciences, our alphabet, our numerals, our written lan- 
guages, our articles of food, our learning, and our systems 
of social manners." 

§ 63. But, supposing that these plains remain deserts, 
interspersed, it is true, as the ocean, by rich and fertile 
islands, but still, like the ocean, incapable of sustaining man 
except as a traveler, does it follow that they are of no use ? 
To their west will then lie California and Oregon, great pro- 
ducing, and yet not' capable of becoming great manufac- 
turing countries ; the former containing the finer, but not 
the coarser metals, together with breadstuffs abundant for 
her own support ; the latter eminent for her wheat-growths, 
her fisheries, and her lumber. But in neither California nor 
Oregon is to be found the coal capable of working, nor the 
iron for framing those great machines by which the wool of 
a country can be turned into clothing, by which the hides 
of the millions of cattle that range the prairies can be used 
for the shoes and the furniture of the nations on either side, 
by which the buttons can be turned and the nails cut. On 
the other hand, on the eastern coast of this great desert-sea, 
will lie Kansas and Nebraska, of all countries the best 
suited for the sites of vast manufactories. There, run rivers 
whose descents and whose copiousness adapt them as well 
to turn the wheel as to irrigate the land ; there, underneath 
a soil which can support a million of workmen, are spread 
layers of coal, which will form the fuel for tens of thousands 



§ 63 THEIR PURPOSES. 99 

of square miles ; there, is the iron which is to form both the 
engine and the staple, the arm that strikes as well as the ma- 
terial that is struck ; there, in fact, are the great furnishing 
warerooms, where the people of California will exchange 
their gold and quicksilver, and those of Oregon their fish 
and lumber, for the hardware, the Clothes, and the furniture, 
which the manufactories of the Missouri Valley will pro- 
duce. If this view be correct, the scene alone of these 
prairie sea-ports of the West will not be unlike that at one 
of our ocean-ports in the East. At the docks of the great 
cities which will then spring upon this shore of civilization, 
will arrive fleet after fleet of the future ships of the desert, 
each dashing over its iron track to* the destined port. 
There, on the levee at which these waves of sand will termi- 
nate, will be strewn the boxes containing not only the gold 
of the Sacramento and of the San Joaquin, and the quick- 
silver of New Alnfaden, but the wines which are even now 
beginning to be drawn from the vineyards of Los Angelos, and 
the cotton and sugar from the south of Sierra Nevada. There, 
will be found, in an abundance which New England herself 
can but rival, the dried and salted fish of the Columbia and the 
Willamette, and the furs which the Oregon hunting-grounds 
produce in such rare abundance. There, will be seen ware- 
houses and shops like those which, in New York and Phila- 
delphia, collect for Western inspection the products of 
Europe and of New England. It will be cheaper for the 
Pacific merchant to come here and purchase than it would 
be to visit the cities of the Atlantic. Manufacturers on the 
Kansas River, on the Blue River, on the Osage, can sell 
heavy goods at least twenty per cent, cheaper than manufac- 



100 NORTH AMERICAN GREAT PLAINS: §64 

turers in Connecticut or Pennsylvania. Freight, amounting 
to five dollars on the hundred-weight, will be a sufficient 
protection to force the manufactories of the Missouri Y alley 
at once into energetic action. The time will come when 
the Western merchant, who leaves California by the cars to 
buy his stock at the East, will find in Topeka, in Nebraska 
City, in Lawrence, warehouses which will unite the products 
of the Atlantic States and of Europe with the goods which 
the abundance of breadstuffs, the proximity of the raw ma- 
terial, and the relief from the burden of freight which bears 
so heavily on transportation across the Alleghanies, will 
enable the factories of Kansas and of Nebraska to present 
on the spot to the exclusion of Eastern competitors. 

§ 64. In the people of the great plains the markets of 
Kansas and Nebraska will not find purchasers only. Those 
plains, desertlike as they may be, are dotted with islands of 
great beauty and richness. Even in the sterile wastes, in- 
tervening between the south fork of the Platte and the 
Arkansas, there frequently occur " little valleys," as they 
are called by Colonel Fremont, "with pure crystal water, 
here leaping swiftly along, and there losing itself in the 
sands ; green spots of luxurious grass, flowers of all colors, 
and timber of different kinds." Sometimes these valleys 
spread themselves into extensive territories, of one of which, 
on the westernmost slope of the Rocky Mountains, the same 
explorer tells us that it is twenty miles in diameter, "covered 
with a rich soil, abundantly watered, and surrounded by 
high and well-timbered mountains, — a place where a farmer 
might well delight to establish himself, if he were content to 
live in the seclusion which it imposes." Sometimes the 



§ 65 THEIR DESTINY. . 101 

arable land is distributed in a circle, like that which surrounds 
the Salt Lake. Not unlike the ocean, this vast sweep of 
desert is broken by islands that are themselves continents in 
extent and variety of produce, as well as by islands that 
are mere specks of rock and sand. It will be to the first 
eastern coast that checks the waves of sand by which these 
islands are girt, in other words, it will be to the prairie- 
banks of Nebraska and Kansas, that this insular commerce 
of the desert will tend. 

§ 65. There is one other view, however, which is calcu- 
lated still more to enhance the value of our East Ameri- 
can land. When the time comes for the inland trans- 
portation of the goods of China and India from the Pacific 
to the Atlantic, it will be found that there is one route whose 
cheapness will enable it to outbid all competitors. The 
Pacific shores, unlike those of the more sociable and restless 
Atlantic, rise up in uniform and dignified seclusion from the 
approaches of the sea. The coast of the Atlantic is per- 
forated by bays and seamed by rivers. There is scarcely an 
area of ten miles square, east of the Rocky Mountains, 
which does not send its tributary to the Atlantic. Far 
different is the case with the western slope of North America. 
South of the Columbia River, -two ranges of mountains fol- 
low the shore, the westernmost of which approaches so closely 
to the sea as to leave no room for a river of any length to 
strike inland. The rivers which run into the Bay of San 
Francisco traverse merely the coast. But the Columbia 
River, as if for the very purpose of affording an avenue for 
inland trade, while it forms one vast and navigable stream 
from the ocean to the centre of the Oregon plain, flares out 
9* 



102 NORTH AMERICAN GREAT PLAINS : § 66 

at the latter point into three forks, each of which offers a 
pass, and the only passes here accessible, through the Rocky 
Mountains. It is the Columbia alone that breaks through 
the mountains of the Cascade and Sierra Nevada ; it is the 
Columbia alone that holds the keys to the passes of the 
mountains, from which, on the easternmost side, run the 
tributaries of the Platte. The forks of the Columbia will, 
therefore, have on one side of them the only navigable 
waters leading to the Pacific, and, on the other, the only 
highways through whose mountain gates the locomotive 
can pass on its way to the Missouri Yalley. That the 
Platte and the Kansas are incapable of navigation, we 
think is now abundantly proved ; but it is equally clear 
that the valleys through which they run are the natural 
courses through which the canal must be opened and the 
railway laid. Thus there will pour into the great depots 
which these frontier States will present, not only the pro- 
ducts of Eastern and Western America, but those of China 
and India. 

§ 66. To these considerations is to be added the fact, that 
the corn and wheat prairies of Nebraska, Iowa, and Kansas, 
stand on the banks of that great river, which, with a volume, a 
force, and through an extent of country which no other stream 
can equal, shoots down the freight committed to it upon the 
vast corn-consuming plains of the Southern Mississippi. It is 
as if the staple and the produce were placed at the top of 
a great natural inclined plane, and the consumer at the 
bottom. Never was there such an avenue for such a freight. 
For five hundred miles these magnificent prairies slope up- 
ward from the river banks ; for one thousand miles the river 



§ 6T THEIR DESTINY. 103 

dashes down with a velocity which enables even the slower 
class of steamboats to descend at the rate of from fifteen to 
twenty miles an hour. It is here that the Missouri has 
great advantage over the Mississippi. The prairie country 
is scarcely reached by the latter river, so far as continuous 
navigation is concerned. The Rapids, at Keokuk, inter- 
pose a serious barrier to the continuous shipment of freight 
from any but the southeast corner of Iowa and the southern 
lobe of Illinois. Were it not for this, the shallows, above 
Dubuque, interpose still greater difficulties in the way of the 
produce of Wisconsin and Minnesota. The navigation of 
the Missouri, on the other hand, continues nearly one thou- 
sand miles beyond where that of the Mississippi stops. 
Where the languid waters of the latter have scarcely force 
enough to propel,, or depth enough to float a raft, the 
powerful current of the former enables the heaviest boats to 
double their speed. Necessary, indeed, is this superior 
energy in order to reach and drain the remotest regions of 
Central North America. But by what a stupendous me- 
chanism is this produced ! 

§ 67. These remarks may be of incidental value in show- 
ing how provisions have been made, from the commencement 
of time, for the sustenance and comfort of the countless 
multitudes who are hereafter to occupy what may be the 
final seat of our race. But there is something more than 
this in the setting apart, not merely of these immense 
preserves for the sustenance of those creatures upon whom 
man depends for so large a portion of his clothing, if not 
his food, but of a land-sea as a commercial highway between 



104 CONTRIVANCE IN RAIN. § 6t 

the almost equally fertile, though diversely producing re- 
gions of the American East and West. If we look upon it as 
one of the peculiar blessings of our own race that our 
forefathers, on the shores of Old and New England, were 
drawn by commerce and the proximity of the coast to as- 
sume the hardships, to acquire the discipline, and to amass 
the wealth of the carrying trade of the ocean, may we not 
see the same advantages accruing in future to those who 
are to have the great carrying trade of the land ? 

But suppose a different arrangement of surface, by which 
the two ranges of the North American continent were con- 
solidated, as in South America, into one spinal ridge, whose 
base would be the Gulf of Mexico, and whose water-shed 
would have sloped equally to the Atlantic and the Pacific 
coasts. Removed as such a chain would be from either of 
the oceans by at least a thousand miles, the moist sea-winds 
would have dropped their rainy contents long before they 
reached that great condensing apparatus which the moun- 
tains would afford. No rains would fall, therefore, on 
Central North America ; and the Yalley of the Mississippi, 
except those portions of it bordering on the Gulf and the 
great lakes, would be an arid waste. Of all territories 
those which are the most capable of raising a rich and 
numerous agricultural population are the States of Ohio, 
Illinois, and Iowa, of Missouri and Kansas, of Tennessee 
and Kentucky. But take these domains out of the Yalley 
of the Mississippi, and let them be heaved upward by a 
central ridge, to which the Atlantic and Pacific winds could 
never penetrate, and you have instead, either the rainless 
plains or the desolate and malign ravines, — the Mauvaises 



§ 68 CONTRIVANCE IN SOIL. 105 

Tenses, which now make the slopes of the Rocky Moun- 
tains uninhabitable. The Mississippi and its tributaries 
would have ceased to exist, and the habitable portions of 
North America reduced two-thirds. 

d. Soil. 

§ 68. "Man," say McCosh and Dickie, in their work on 
" Creation,"* " is but the unwitting copyist, on a small scale, 
of actions which have been conducted on a far greater scale, 
and apparently with his benefit in view. Those very quali- 
ties which a good soil ought to possess, have been induced, 
in course- of time, by various chemical and physical agencies, 
which have been in continual operation. The debris of 
rocks yielding calcareous, silicious, aluminous, and other 
mineral ingredients, have been brought together, and mixed 
in a way which the husbandman imitates when necessity 
demands. The furrows drawn by our plowshares are but 
scratches on the surface of the soil compared with the 
changes to which that same soil has been subjected in 
former ages, and to which it owes its varied capabilities of 
supporting plants and yielding subsistence to the animal 
kingdom." 

Now let us view, in this connection, the soil of our own 
Mississippi Valley. There, besides the agencies just men- 
tioned, are these great rivers by which this plain is watered, 
and whose specific mission can be traced in the superb 
mould which they have been for ages engaged in forming. 

* Page 346. 



106 PRAIRIE SOIL: §68 

For, long before the white man, or that strange, parentheti- 
cal people which preceded him, — even before that 

Disciplined and populous race, 
which built the great mounds of the West, 

While yet the Greek 
Was hewing the Pentelicus to forms 
Of symmetry, and rearing on, its rock 
The glittering Parthenon ; 

then were these rivers engaged in collecting, in deposit- 
ing, in manuring the soil. Could a scoffer among the fallen 
angels, such as those who in these days argue the absence 
or indolence of God from the apparent wastes of creation, 
have watched these rivers as amid the pine forests and the 
lagoons of pre-Adamite life they wore their sluggish way 
through their marshy bed, until, as time passed on, and the 
fertilizing action of the water developed itself, rich and 
dark mosses began to cluster, and mammoth ferns to raise 
their thick and juicy spires, and the canebrake to thicken, so 
as to present an impenetrable barrier on the river bank ; 
could he have seen how the waters of these rivers, and of 
the seas from which they subsided, were only broken by the 
clumsy dip of bird-mammoths when in pursuit of fish, 
or by the plunge of the water-horse, he might well have 
asked, as he compared his own high and refined order of 
intelligence with the low and inartificial type of creatures 
before him, what was the purpose of this apparent waste. 
If so, a view of the distant future would be the answer. 
E.eefs, the workmanship of that coral population which, for 
hundreds of years, had been rearing in the waters their 



I 



§ 69 CONTRIVANCE. 107 

fretted mansions, would gradually receive a light though 
fertile soil. Then comes a rich and fat vegetation, pro- 
ducing and precipitating by its oils and salts the most 
effective of manures. Then, as the rivers narrow, and the 
bluffs arise, and as the agency of fire begins to be felt, the 
prairie-grass commences its work of covering this rich soil 
with a canvas to preserve it for the use of the nations to 
come. Oak-trees, from three to four hundred years old, 
have been found with this prairie sod so placed underneath 
their roots as to show that it was there when the acorn 
was dropped. For centuries, therefore, the long and strong 
threads of the grass-root have been knitted to and fro, until 
at last they have become a fabric, the tenacity of which no 
loom can rival. For centuries birds have rendered their 
aid to complete the work by dropping down seeds of an in- 
finite variety of stunted but thick-set little plants that clinch 
and rasp the sod above and beneath. For centuries fires 
have periodically blazed over the whole surface, forcing 
vegetation, in very self-defence, to betake itself to under- 
ground work, where its enemy cannot reach it, packing itself 
away in cellars two or three stories deep. 

§ 69. Now, let us observe the soil that by this process 
has been produced. On the bottom lands we have a soil of 
sand and clay, richly impregnated and saturated with car- 
bon and with the vast quantities of decayed vegetable 
matter which the rivers are constantly precipitating. Corn, 
not unusually to the amount of an hundred and fifty 
bushels to the acre, is here produced, with scarcely any 
more preparation than the turning of the soil, which is 
already so soft and pliable as to require only the ordinary 



108 coal: §70 

plow-work. From this, which forms, more strictly speak- 
ing, the river-basin, there rises not unfrequently a second, or 
subsidiary bottom, at an average height of fifty feet from 
the river level, and sloping back to the bluff heights which 
form the base of the inland prairies. Of the fertility of this 
formation, as well as of that of the vast inland expanses that 
are covered by the prairie sod, it is not necessary here to 
speak. It is sufficient to say, that nations, exceeding in 
population all Europe and Asia, will find food in the great 
valley which Divine wisdom and beneficence has thus pre- 
pared. 

e. Fuel. 

§ 70. The traveler who passes up the Upper Missouri into 
regions where the crack of the woodman's ax is as yet but 
rarely heard, will recollect how the progress of civilization 
is marked by the frequency of the little wood-piles which are 
placed along the shore to meet the wants of the steamboat 
as she pushes her away against the strong and muddy cur- 
rent. " There," is the cry, as the pile of fuel exhibits itself 
on the river-bank, " there is the mark of man ; there exists, 
not far off, a human home, and here is the sign of thought 
and contrivance." No one would listen contentedly to the 
suggestion that these little heaps were drift-wood, broken by 
some violent storm into these peculiar shapes, and then 
swept by chance to these particular spots in the heaps in 
which they are now found. 

It is hard, however, to see how we can admit contrivance 
in the wood-piles by the river-side, and deny it to the 
wonderful deposits of fuel which we find adapted to the 



§ YO DESIGN IN FORMATION. 109 

growing wants of human society. As the forests are hewn 
down, and more particularly as the great and treeless 
prairies are peopled, we may well pause to admire that wise 
mercy which provided an inexhaustible field of fuel at the 
very spot where it is the most required. And yet it is no 
slight proof of the patience and majesty of the procession 
of the Divine will, that it is only lately that man has been 
able to understand the object of this great contrivance. 
Those huge cone-bearing trees, those rich and varied mosses, 
that flowerless and fruitless vegetation, so luxuriant and so 
immense, for what were they meant ? And then, those layers 
of black stone, cropping out by the hill-side, what object 
have they? But now the answer comes in the hum of 
"15,000 steam-engines, with a power equal to that of 
2,000,000 of men, and thus is put into operation machinery 
equaling the unaided power of 300,000,000 or 400,000,000 
of men."* The answer rises with the smoke of the cottage 
where labor plies its task, and from the whistle of both the 
magnificent steam-hotel that navigates the Mississippi, and 
the energetic and bustling little propeller that darts up into 
the narrowest of the inlets that feed the inhospitable shores 
of Lake Superior. 

So it is, interpreting the meaning of the past by the de- 
velopment of the present. If, as we are entitled to do, we 
take the converse, and judge of the development of the 
future by the meaning of the present, how still more ma- 
jestic becomes that Providence by which both present and 
future are determined ! Thick beds of coal, we are told, 

* Hitchcock's Rel. Truth Illustrated by Science, p. Ill, etc. 
10 



110 coal-fields: §U 

underlie 200,000 square miles in the United States, which 
have been actually probed, irrespective of the vast area to 
be hereafter examined. Taking, as does Dr. Hitchcock, 
1100 cubic miles of coal as the measurement of that already- 
discovered, and assuming with him that one cubic mile 
would supply the country for a thousand years, we are able 
to look forward over a period of a million of years during 
which this fuel would remain unexhausted.* 

§ 11. Nor is the care shown in stowing away this fuel less 
worthy of our admiration. The masses of these soft, but 
gradually hardening vegetable-coal, were overlaid with strata 
of rock, forming a roof to the vast vaults in which they were 
deposited for future use. These vaults, or coal-cellars, are 
placed in the vicinity of the points where their contents are 
to be needed. The tropics know them not, and the semi- 
tropics but slightly. But in those Northern climes, whose 
vicissitudes most encourage labor, there, where the great 
factories of the world are to be placed, where its commercial 
depots are to spring up, and population, in its most concen- 
trated shape, is to be collected, this fuel has been stored. And 
then, with a careful providence which anticipates, though on 
so much more splendid a scale, the forethought of the manu- 
facturer, who, before putting his machinery to work, collects 
together his staples as well as his fuel, we find that iron and 
limestone are almost invariably placed in proximity to the 
coal.f 



* See Hitchcock's Eel. Truth Illustrated by Science, p. 112. 
f The bearing of the above on the political future of the 
United States is strikingly exhibited in Professor Le Conte's 



§ 7 1 DESIGN IN FORMATION. Ill 

We may well, then, unite in applying to these great and 
beneficent arrangements for the comfort of man that re- 
markable passage in which the Saviour of men — He who, 
during His human life, was so comfortless among those 



late lectures on coal, before the Smithsonian Institute.* " There 
are, within the limits of the United States, no less than four coal- 
fields of enormous dimensions. One of these, the Apalachian 
coal-field, commences on the north, in Pennsylvania and Ohio, 
sweeping south through Western Virginia and Eastern Kentucky, 
Tennessee, extends even into Alabama. Its area is estimated at 
about 60,000 square miles. A second occupies the greater portion 
of Illinois and Indiana; in extent almost equal to the Apalachian. 
A third covers the greater portion of Missouri ; while a fourth occu- 
pies the greater portion of Michigan. Just out of the limits of the 
United States, in New Brunswick and Nova Scotia, there is still 
a fifth, occupying, according to Mr. Lyell, an area of 36,000 
square miles. Besides these, there are several others of less extent. 
If we now compare therelative coal areas of the principal coal- 
producing countries, the superiority of our own will be still con- 
spicuous. The annual production of coal in Great Britain is 
more than seven times that of the United States, although her 
coal area is so much less. It is estimated that even at this enor- 
mous rate of production the coal-fields of Great Britain will yet 
last for five hundred years. There is little danger, then, that ours 
will fail us shortly. Now, industry, as the basis of the organiza- 
tion of society, forms the distinguishing feature of modern civili- 
zation. Coal is the very aliment of industry. The material pros- 
perity of any country may, therefore, be tolerably accurately esti- 
mated by the amount of coal consumed. According to this method 
of estimation, Great Britain is superior to all other countries in 
actual material civilization. But if the consumption of coal is 
a measure of the actual civilization of a country, the amount of 
coal area represents its potential civilization. How far are we 



: Smith. lost. Rep. 1857, p. 129. 



112 DESIGN IN COAL. § 71 

whose comforts He suffered so much and worked so grandly 
to promote — thus speaks : — 

" The Lord possessed me in the beginning of His way, 
before his works of old. I was set up from everlasting, 
from the beginning, or ever the earth was. When there 
were no depths, I was brought forth ; when there were no 
fountains abounding with water. Before the mountains were 
settled ; before the hills was I brought forth ; while as yet 
He had not made the earth, nor the fields, nor the highest 
part of the dust of the world. When He prepared the 
heavens I was there : when He set a compass upon the face 
of the depth : when He established the clouds above : when 
He strengthened the fountains of the deep : when He gave 
to the sea His decree, that the waters should not pass His 
commandment : when He appointed the foundations of the 
earth : there i was by him, as one brought up with 

HIM : AND I WAS DAILY HIS DELIGHT, REJOICING ALWAYS 
BEFORE HIM ; REJOICING IN THE HABITABLE PART OF HIS 
EARTH; AND MY DELIGHTS WERE WITH THE SONS OF MEN." 



superior to all other countries in this respect ! What a glorious 
destiny awaits us in the future, — a destiny already predetermined 
in the earliest geological history of the earth !" 



§ T2 PROGRESS OF SOCIETY PROOF OF A GOD. 113 



CHAPTEE VI. 

FROM THE PROGRESS OF SOCIETY. 

a. Arts and sciences. 

§ 12. There are but two ways of accounting for the com- 
paratively recent development of the arts and sciences : the 
one is, that man, though as a race, of indefinite age, has 
only of late years been endowed with faculties for this pur- 
pose ; the other is, that the race itself is of recent creation. 

Take, for instance, the first alternative. Who endowed the 
race with these new and special powers ? Does not a new 
and substantive addition to the properties of mind prove an 
originator as much as does its original establishment ? 

But, in point of fact, there is no such recent accretion to 
the store of human intellect. It is true that Christianity 
has given an industrial value and beneficence to modern art, 
and that this has almost indefinitely increased the number 
of useful inventions ; but is art itself developed in our own 
times to any greater degree than we would expect from the 
accumulation of the experience derived from so long a lapse 
of years ? Compare, for instance, the elegance of the 
art of our own days with that of what is called ancient 
times, and see wherein we have gained. It is not in archi- 
tecture, however it may be in house building. It is not in 
sculpture, however it may be in the industrial use of stone. 
10* 



114 PROGRESS OP society: § 73 

It is not in the embossing and moulding of gold, however it 
may be in the working of iron. In the mere line of orna- 
ment it is a question whether the lost arts do not almost 
equal the retained arts. 

§73. Nor can we say that the inventive faculties of the hu- 
man race have diminished. Nothing has since exceeded the 
fertility of invention and the vividness of the grouping of 
the Iliad, — nothing has equaled the sublime and pathetic 
theodicy of the Book of Job. Of Aristotle, we are told by 
Archbishop Whately, that his is the only human intellect 
which, at the same time, originated and perfected an art. Nor 
can we now explore the remains of Pompeii or of Nineveh, 
without seeing that the inventive faculty among the artists 
who dwelt in those ancient cities was as strong as their 
power of decoration was great. 

But if, as is thus shown, the faculty and habit of inven- 
tion are not of late introduction ; if we are to presume 
them coeval with our race, does not this bring the creation of 
man down to a comparatively recent period ? Could in- 
tellects as flexible as those which framed the Iliad, or ambi- 
tion as remorseless and patient as that which built the 
Pyramids, have worked for centuries without leaving a 
mark ? Let us see how we apply the same test to other 
matters of human observation. Robinson Crusoe finds one 
day the print of a human foot on the spot which a day 
before was unmarked, and he concludes that, between the 
first and second visits, man had been there. So in our own 
land, we measure the duration of the several races which 
possessed it by the monuments of art they left. When we 
find that, compared with the geological record, the history 



§ 1 4-15 PROOF OF A GOD. 115 

of human art is very brief; when we see how every year 
heralds in important inventions, showing a progression 
which, in itself, involves a commencement, we must conclude 
that our race is not indefinite in its duration, but that it had 
a definite and specific beginning. 

b. Reproduction. 

§ 14. Taking the ratio of increase of man, as exhibited 
during the section of history concerning which we have 
been able to collect statistics, we have no difficulty in deter- 
mining that, within a specific range of time, man must have 
commenced to exist. Here geology, as will be noticed 
more fully under another head, comes in to point out to us 
exactly the period of animal creation in which the intro- 
duction of man took place. 

c. Written history. 

§ 15. Beyond three, or, at the utmost, four thousand years 
back, we have no trace of the existence of any authentic 
history. If man was eternal, with those same capacities for 
narration which the earliest records display in at least an 
equal degree with the latest, there is no other way of ac- 
counting for this silence except on the hypothesis of some 
great convulsion which tore apart the lines of communica- 
tion. But if so, the vivid memory of this great disruption 
would have been recorded by those who stood on this side 
of the chasm. They would have left for us, in language the 
most enduring, their testimony to an event so momentous. 
But, instead of this, we have tradition, both written and 
unwritten, all tending the other way. 



116 history: §16 

§ 76. To these remarks may be added the following strik- 
ing observations of Dr. Chalmers : — "After all, they are the 
direct testimonies, handed down from one to another in the 
stream of Jewish and Christian authors, which constitute 
the main strength and solidity of the historical argument for 
the historical fact of a creation. There might be fitter oc- 
casions for entering into the detail of this evidence, but we 
hold it not out of place to notice even at present the strong 
points of it. In tracing the course upwards from the pre-* 
sent day, we arrive, by a firm and continuous series of 
authors, at that period, when not only the truth of the Chris- 
tian story is guarantied by thousands of dying martyrs, but 
when the Old Testament Scriptures — these repositories of 
the Jewish" story — obtained a remarkable accession to 
their evidence, which abundantly compensates for their re- 
moteness from our present age. We allude to the split 
between two distinct and independent, or stronger still, two 
bitterly adverse bodies of witnesses at the outset of the 
Christian economy. The publicity of the New Testament 
miracles ; the manifest sincerity of those who attested them, 
as evinced by their cruel sufferings in the cause, not of 
opinions which they held to be true, but of facts which they 
perceived by their senses ; the silence of inveterate and im- 
passioned enemies, most willing, if they could, to have 
transmitted the decisive refutation of them to modern 
times ; these compose the main strength of the argument 
for our later Scriptures. And then, besides the reference in 
which they abound to the former Scriptures, and by which, 
in fact, they give the whole weight of their authority to the 
Old Testament, we have the superadded testimony of an 



§ 16 PROOF OF A GOD. 11? 

entire nation now ranged in zealous hostility against the 
Christian faith, and bent upon its overthrow. * * * * jSTow, 
the truth of the continuous narrative which forms the annals 
of this wondrous people would demonstrate a great deal more 
than what we are in quest of: that the world had a be- 
ginning, or rather, that many of the world's present organi- 
zations had a beginning, and have not been perpetuated 
everlastingly from one generation to another by those laws 
of transmission which now prevail over the wide extent of 
the animal and vegetable kingdoms."* 

* 1 Nat, Theol., p. 183. Constable's edition. 



118 GEOLOGICAL PROOF §17 



CHAPTER VIJ. 



FROM GEOLOGY. 



a. Anterior uninhabitability of the earth. 

§ 7 T. The conditions of heat and cold prescribe that 
where the former is brought into contact with the latter, 
through a conducting medium, the heat will be lost unless 
there be a process inside for its continued generation. Thus, 
if we go into a room where the atmosphere is at zero, and 
find in it a stove-drum with a superficial heat of 80°, we 
conclude either that the drum is now supplied with heat, 
bringing it up to this temperature, or that it is gradually 
cooling from an anterior higher degree of heat. We 
know that the cold air and the hot drum could not have re- 
mained in contact any long period without an approach 
toward the equalization of their temperatures ; and, finding 
that the drum is not connected with any fire, we, therefore, 
conclude that it has been gradually cooling. Now, the 
atmosphere around the earth is of a temperature of at least 
fifty-eight degrees below zero. That of the earth runs up 
from twenty to an hundred degrees above zero. One of 
two alternatives is, therefore, correct : either the earth has 
had a beginning, or it has not. If it has had a beginning, 
this involves a maker. If it has not, but is indefinitely 
old, then, as it is not pretended that it contains the power of 



§ Y8 OF CREATION. 119 

the indefinite renewal of heat, the alternative follows that 
there must have been a period when it was in a state of in- 
candescence. Hence, in either way, we come back to the 
alternative of supernatural interference at such definite an- 
terior period. 

b. Subsequent creation of specific forms of organ- 
ized life. 

a 1 . Man. 

§ T8. "All observation," says Dr. Hitchcock,* "teaches 
us that he (man) was one of the last of the animals that 
was placed upon the earth. In vain do we search through 
the six miles of solid rocks that lie piled upon one another, 
commencing with the lowest, for any trace of man. And it 
is not until we come into the uppermost formations, — we 
mean the alluvial, nay, not until we get almost to the top of 
that, merely in the loose soil that is spread over the surface, 
— that we find his bones. And yet these, formed of the 
same materials as the bones of other animals, would have 
been as certainly preserved as theirs, in the lower rocks, had 
he existed there. The conclusion is irresistible, and it is 
acquiesced in by all experienced geologists, that man did 
not exist as a cotemporary of the animals found in the 
rocks. At least five vast periods of time, with their nu- 
merous yet distinct groups of organic beings, passed over 
this globe before the appearance of man. This is not a 
dreamy, hypothetical conclusion, but a simple matter of fact, 
which has been scrutinized with great care, and by some 
unfriendly to revelation, who would gladly have found it 

* Rel. Truth Illustrated from Science, p. 120. 



120 geology: § 19 

otherwise. But no fossil man or works of man have been 
discovered below alluvium, (in which we include drift ;) nor 
would any really scientific man risk his reputation by main- 
taining the existence of the human species earlier than the 
alluvial period. What an astonishing exhibition does this 
scientific fact bring before us ! Suppose we could explain 
by chemical and organic laws how the inferior animals were 
gradually developed from one another in the successive 
periods of our world's history. Yet here we have the phe- 
nomenon of a being introduced at once, superior somewhat 
in organic structure to the other animals, but raised im- 
measurably above them all by his lofty intellectual, and 
moral powers, — a being destined to take the supreme con- 
trol of all inferior natures, and, so far as need be, to subject 
them all to his will ; and, in fact, to convert the elements 
into servants to do his pleasure. The anatomist can, indeed, 
describe his organization ; the physiologist can point out 
the functions of his organs ; and the zoologist can assign 
him rank at the head of animate creation ; but how is the 
psychologist baffled when he attempts to unravel the won- 
ders of his spiritual power, and the theologian when he 
looks into the depths of his moral and immortal nature ! * * 
What greater miracle does even revelation disclose ?" 

b\ Inferior animals. 

§ 19. I propose, under this head, to restrict myself to 
the examination of a few of the fossils lately discovered in 
a single and not very large section of territory, — the Bad 
Lands of Nebraska, called by the French trappers the 
Mauvaises Terres. The geological formation of these 
lands is of the tertiary period, and of all sections of 



§ 19 PROVING A CREATOR. 121 

America as yet explored, they present objects of the greatest 
interest to the student of cosmical as well as geological 
science.* The traveler who descends from the vast and now 
dreary level of the surrounding prairie, is appalled by the 
sight of a basin of fossil cemeteries, sinking nearly two 
hundred feet below the adjacent surface. On the sandy 
soil of this basin rise an infinite series of minaret-pointed 
peaks, some jutting up two hundred feet, and many painted 
on the side with prismatic hues. The quaint-looking towers ; 
the winding alleys which separate block from block; the 
occasional buttresses which round off one line of streets ; 
the chimneylike turrets that rise over the level of the larger 
and more compact masses, give all the evidences of some 
vast but deserted metropolis. When, however, the observer 
descends to the supposed city, the delusion vanishes. The 
perpendicular walls fall backward into slanting, weather- 
beaten rocks. The pavements crumble into sands, which, in 
the torrid heats of August, parch the traveler's feet as 
much as the vertical sun oppresses his brain. The chimneys 
are but blocks of rock, and the minarets splinters of spar. 

These castellated structures, though they are not the evi- 
dences of human civilization, are the metres by which are 
noted the progress of events far more stupendous than those 
of mere mechanical enterprise. The turrets and columns of 
the Bad Lands are incrusted with the fossil remains of races 
submerged by the fresh waters of the early tertiary period. 

* This subject is more fully considered by the present writer, in 
the Episcopal Review for Jan., 1858, to which the reader is re- 
ferred. 

11 



122 NEBRASKA BAD LANDS : § 80 

Animals which preceded the mammoth and mastodon — and 
between which and the mammoth and the mastodon there 
exists a chasm which neither class has overpassed — are here 
to be found in unequaled completeness. Thus, for instance, 
in the Archiotherium, a specimen discovered by David Dale 
Owen, in his exploration, and examined by Dr. Leidy,* are 
united characters belonging to the pachyderms, the planti- 
grades, and the digitigrades. With these are grouped a 
series of other individuals, which demonstrate, to use the 
language of Mr. Owen himself, by no means an intentional 
supporter of the Mosaic account, that " at the time these 
singular animals roamed over the Mauvaises Terres of the 
Upper Missouri, the configuration of our present continents 
was very different from what it now is. Europe and Asia 
were then, in fact, no continents at all, being represented 
only by a few islands, scattered over a wide expanse of 
ocean. The Atlantic seaboard of the United States, back 
to the mountain ranges, and up the Yalley of the Missis- 
sippi as high as Vicksburg, was yet under water. — In 
Europe, during the period following the extermination of 
the eocene Fauna of Nebraska, the Alps have been heaved 
up nearly their whole height ; and in Northern India the 
whole Subhimalayan range had been elevated." 

§ 80. So it is that on the Bad Lands we find the water- 
guage, which marks the rise and fall of a deluge which, if 
not that of Noah, relieves that great phenomenon from the 
main cosmical difficulties with which it has been invested by 
the earlier skeptics. A deluge which, if not universal, was 

* Owen's Geo. Sur., p. 198. 



§ 80 MARKS OF CREATION. 123 

at least extensive enough to have submerged all the living 
members of a population as large and widely spread as that 
of Europe at the present time, not only is possible, but is 
shown to have actually taken place. 

We have corroborating evidence as to the seniority of the 
American continent in the coal formations which Kansas and 
Iowa exhibit in common with the Atlantic States. Yegetable 
life in the Yalley of the Euphrates did not begin until race 
after race of extinct species of plants had been buried in the 
Yalley of the Missouri. This is thus noticed by Agassiz, in 
his work on Lake Superior. " It' is a circumstance," we 
are told by this acute observer, "quite extraordinary and un- 
expected that the fossil plants of the tertiary beds of (Eni- 
gen resemble more closely the trees and shrubs which grow 
at present in the eastern parts of North America than those 
of any other parts in the world, thus allowing us to express 
correctly the difference between the opposite coasts of 
Europe and America, by saying that the present Eastern 
American Flora, and, I may add, the Eauna also, have a 
more ancient character than those of Europe. The plants, 
especially the trees and shrubs, growing in our days in the 
United States are, as it were, old-fashioned ; and the cha- 
racteristic genera, Lagomys, Chelydra, and the large Sala- 
manders with permanent gills, that remind us of the fossils 
of (Enigen, are at least equally so ; they bear the marks of 
former ages." And, on the same point, Hugh Miller says : 
"'Not only are we accustomed to speak of the Eastern 
continents as the Old World, in contradistinction to the 
great continent of the West, but to speak also of the world 
before the Flood as the Old World, in contradistinction to 



124 NEBRASKA BAD LANDS: §81 

that postdiluvian world which has succeeded it. And yet, 
equally, if we receive the term in either of its acceptations, 
is America an older world still ; an older world than that 
of the Eastern continents ; an older world, in the fashion 
and type of its productions, than the world before the flood. 
And when the immigrant settler takes ax amid the deep 
back-woods, to lay open for the first time what he deems a 
new country, the great trees that fall before him ; the brush- 
wood which he lops away with a sweep of his tool ; the 
unfamiliar herbs which he tramples under foot ; the lazy 
fishlike reptile that stirs out of his path as he descends to 
the neighboring creek to drink ; the fierce alligatorlike 
tortoise, with the large limbs and small carpace, that he sees 
watching among the reeds for fish and frogs, just as he 
reaches the water, and the little harelike rodent, without a 
tail, that he startles by the way, all attest, by the antique- 
ness of the mould in which they are cast, how old a country 
the seemingly new one is, — a country vastly older, in type 
at least, than that of the antediluvians and patriarchs, and 
only to be compared with that which flourished on the 
eastern side of the Atlantic long ere the appearance of 
man, and the remains of whose perished productions we find 
locked up in the loess of the Rhine, or amid the lignites of 
Nassau. America is emphatically the Old World." 

§ 81. There is a peculiar emphasis in the teachings of the 
Bad Lands as to the fact of the creation and extermination 
of races now extant. "Every specimen as yet brought from 
the Bad Lands," says Mr. Owen, "proves to be of species 
that became exterminated before the mammoth and mas- 
todon lived, and differ in their specific characters not only 



§ 81 PROOF OF CREATION. 125 

from all living animals, but also from all fossils obtained 
even from contemporaneous geological formations else- 
where" In other words, the Bad Lands record a miracle 
with as sharp precision as do the first chapter of Genesis, 
the fourth chapter of the Second Book of Kings, and the 
eleventh chapter of John. It is a creation, not by the ordi- 
nary process of generation, but by a divine fiat, of a new 
family of living creatures. The calling of life into the 
widow's child was not, by any means, so violent a disruption 
of what philosophers call the laws of nature, as the awaken- 
ing of a new period of animal life in the then untrodden 
bottom of the Missouri. Lazarus, rising from his grave, 
broke not so much in upon these same laws as the starting 
up from his miry bed of the gigantic hornless rhinoceros — 
the Rhinoceros ]S"ebrascencis, described by Dr. Leidy — who 
was the Adam in that race whose last as welt as whose first 
members now lie in the eocene tertiary of the Bad Lands. 
The record of such creations and extinctions as these is the 
record of miracles as distinguished from history, which is 
the record of the working of natural laws. The latter nar- 
rates the march of second causes ; the former, of first. In 
this view we have a most complete refutation of Mr. Hume's 
famous position, that no human testimony can prove a 
miracle, because, what is contrary to universal experience 
cannot itself be shown by substantive proof. The universal 
experience of man, as he would argue, which establishes the 
uniformity of animal generation, would exclude the recep- 
tion of any evidence whatever of a creation by a direct 
Divine interposition. But this is as if an insect, whose term 
of life is a moment, and the history of whose race occupies 
11* 



126 geology : § 82 

but half a day, should declare that the clock, whose ticking 
sounds so sonorously in his tiny ears, and which, from the 
memory of his remotest ancestors, never ceased to strike in 
the same equal beats, is an institution of perpetual existence, 
any deviation in whose course no evidence can be received 
to prove. Tell him that at some remote period that clock 
was wound up by extrinsic power, and he will tell you that 
such a winding up is contrary to all insect experience, and 
that he will hear nothing to prove it. 

§ 82. Now, while human history details the ticking and 
movements of the clock, as moved by its inner machinery, 
the geological record notes its windings-up. It presents to 
us, not the details of intermediate life, but the epochs of 
successive creations and extinctions. It shows us the sha- 
dow of that august Presence as, from the secret chamber of 
His eternal purposes, He passed over the face of the earth 
to create a new race in place of one that had run its course. 
We can watch the awful solitude that covered all that then 
existed of the now busy continent of North America. The 
Alps were still but low promontories, and the now fiery 
head of Etna, not yet deserted by the waters which washed 
into its crater, had not commenced to burn. The main land 
of North America stopped at the East with the Alleghanies, 
and the waters penetrated northward into the Yalley of the 
Mississippi, nearly to the mouth of the Arkansas. It was 
in the Yalley of the Missouri that life, in this early tertiary 
period, first broke. There, in the rank vegetation of the 
river-bottom, and under the shade of mammoth trees, 
among swamps, from which rose upward in all their coarse 
strength, obelisklike reeds, or among terraces of immense 



§ 82 PROVING A CREATOR. 12? 

cone-bearing trees, and forests of ferns, — there, with 
canines adapted to seize upon the fish with which the waters 
were filled, and grinding teeth, like the elk, only vastly 
larger, so as to cut through the huge vegetation, strode the 
oreodon, a creature of an order between which and all 
others a definite chasm exists, which nothing but a new 
creative power could have passed. There were to be seen 
mammalia of the lachydermal tribe, twenty feet in length 
and ten in height, with massive scales on their backs, and 
jaws five feet long, armed with teeth for grinding and cut- 
ting flesh and bone as well as for chewing cud. There, in 
the semi-aqueous earth, waddled or wallowed huge turtles, 
(Testudo Nebrascencis, Leidy,) gifted with amphibious 
parts, which even now make the acute mind of Dr. Leidy 
to hesitate as to the order to which they really belonged. 

All of these species, with their contemporaries, preserve 
their specific features from the beginning to the end 
of this fossil history. They are identical with nothing 
else, either before or after. They begin with all their idio- 
syncrasies entire, and they end with them such. The last 
individual buried in this tertiary grave has the same features 
as the first ; but neither of them is the same as anything 
else. There is no intermediate stage, showing how they 
developed out of some prior and simpler condition of ani- 
mal life, or afterwards matured into something riper and 
more complex. On the contrary, they leap, with their in- 
dividuality complete, into existence, and leap, with their 
individuality in like manner complete, out of it. It is the 
sharp and clear fiat: "And god made the beast of the 



128 geology: §83 

earth after his kind." It is the history of a miracle 
eD graven by the Divine hand upon the perpetual rocks. 

§ 83. It will be seen, therefore, that there is one other 
error which these fossils confute : the theory of psycho- 
logical development, so wildly flung out by Dr. Oken, as 
well as that more artfully propounded by the author of 
the "Vestiges of Creation." No lineage through prior 
eras can be traced for the mammalia of Nebraska. None 
of them, or no approaches to them, have a place in the 
secondary period of the geologists. When God created 
them, to use the strong language of Sir Charles Lyell, He 
threw away the die. The race was formed in a mould by 
itself. " There is nothing," to adopt the language of 
Agassiz, when applied to another class, "like parental 
descent connecting them (the several periods.) The fishes 
of the paleozoic age are, in no respect, the ancestors of the 
reptiles of the secondary age, nor does man descend from 
the mammals which preceded him in the tertiary age. 
The link by which they are connected is of a higher and 
immaterial nature ; and the connection is to be sought in 
the will of the Creator himself." 

Of the continuity, and, at the same time, the identity of 
the several families of the Nebraska mammalia, the per- 
ceptive sagacity of Dr. Leidy has furnished us with several 
illustrations which meet the only objection which can be 
urged to the theory of miraculous creation. In the Bad 
Lands of Nebraska lie not occasional specimens of animals 
swept tjiere by some great estuary, but the remains of an 
entire race. They form the family burying- ground of the 



§84 PROVING A CREATOR. 129 

early eocene tertiary. There are to be traced, in their full 
delicacy, all the modulations from childhood to maturity, 
from maturity to old age. They venture to all the limits 
of family variation, but they never venture out of it. The 
cub and the dam, the infant and the adult, the young rhino- 
ceros, scarce able to sprawl on the ground, and the aged 
parent, hardly strong enough on its crooked legs to sup- 
port the weight of its armor-clad trunk, all lie, side by 
side, in this vast mammal cemetery. And now, through 
the skill of the comparative anatomist, we have not only 
the picture of the individual, but the picture of the family- 
group of young and old, infant and parent, as they sank 
in the soft soil of the bottom of this ancient valley. Thus, 
of a single animal, the Rhinoceros Nebrascencis, Dr. Leidy 
gives us the plates of portions of no less than twelve 
different individuals. We have the "adult" and the 
"nearly adult," the "very old," the "very young," the 
"male," and the "female," as they browsed sometimes on 
the club ferns of the bluffs, or pursued their fishy prey 
below. We can draw, therefore, from these explorations 
of the Bad Lands, more than one important truth. We 
can learn that the graveyard into which we enter contains 
remains not of stray individuals only, but of all contempo- 
raneous neighboring creation. 

§ 84. We learn that the members of this creation are 
united by no lineage with periods that precede and follow 
them. We learn that so skillful is the art of the compara- 
tive anatomist, that he is now able to distinguish between 
even the phases of sex and age, and a fortiori would be capa- 



130 PROOF FROM GEOLOGY. § 84 

ble of tracing the deviation into a new species. We have, 
therefore, the material to act upon, and the power to act. 
And then, with this power, and this subject-matter, when we 
lift the curtain and gaze upon these wonderful archives of geo- 
logical scriptures, there opens upon us not merely the writ- 
ten truth that God created each living thing after his kind, 
but the august reality of creation itself, begun, continued, 
and closed by the Great First Cause in person. 






§ 85-86 RELATIONS OF GOD AND MAN. 131 



CHAPTEE VIII. 

THE RELATIONS OF GOD AND MAN AS DETERMINED BY 
NATURAL THEOLOGY". 

§ 85. a. In the preceding chapters the following proposi- 
tions may be considered as established : — 

a 1 . That there is an all-powerful God who seeks the 

pleasure of His creatures. 
b\ That this God is a sovereign, directing all things by 

His will. 
c 1 . That He governs by general laws. 
d 1 . That besides this, He has established in each breast 

a moral tribunal, armed with powerful sanctions, 

for the purpose of directing right and prohibiting 

wrong. 
§ 86. b. On the other hand, it is clear that a comprehen- 
sive survey of the phenomena already examined brings be- 
fore us the following apparently contradictory truths : — 
a 1 . That what appear gratuitous pain and sorrow are 

often inflicted on the animal creation. 
b l . That man is endowed with freedom of will and ac- 
tion, which, however, he frequently perverts to his 

own ruin. 
c l . That human conduct is to a great degree affected by 

what are called "accidents," i.e. events not to be 

accounted for by any general law. 



132 RECONCILIATION OF DIFFICULTIES. §81-88 

c. Reconciliation of these apparent contradic- 
tories. 

a\ TJie attempt to reconcile them by the hypothesis of 
an imperfect Creator illogical. 

§ 87. These supposed contradictions have been used to 
prove the imperfection of the creative power. If a con- 
trivance, it is argued, proves a contriver, so an imperfect 
contrivance proves an imperfect contriver. 

Now, there is a fallacy in the very statement of this pro- 
position, which Dr. Johnson pointed out when touching 
upon a kindred dogma. The line, "Who rules o'er freemen 
should himself be free," was quoted in his presence ; and he 
disposed of it by the parody, " Who drives fat oxen should 
himself be fat." It is not necessary that the ruler should 
partake of the character of the ruled, or the creator of the 
created. A glass-blower, for instance, may produce a thick 
shingle of glass, for a roof, so tough and hard that it may 
resist all blows, or he may produce a wide sheet which will 
make an excellent mirror, but will crack if struck by a peb- 
ble. Now, if the mirror was intended for the roof, or the 
roof for the mirror, we would infer an imperfect artificer ; 
but if they are each adapted to their specific purposes, we 
can infer nothing more than a wise economy of means to- 
ward end. Before, therefore, determining whether the im- 
perfectness of the machine proves the imperfectness of the 
machinist, we must inquire for what the machine is meant. 

§ 88. This same proposition may be further illustrated as 
follows : — A river is let into a canal; at a distance of twenty 
miles from the feeder the water is lost. Now, this may be 
attributed either to a deficiency in the original stream or a 






§ 89 MYSTERY OF MAN. 133 

leak in the canal. And the presumption that it is the latter, 
increases as, on going nearer and nearer to the feeder,, we 
find the volume of water proportionally enlarge. 

§ 89. Now it is remarkable that, in contemplating the great 
area of the universe, the nearer we get to man the more 
these irregularities and imperfections multiply : the farther 
off we get the more they decrease. It would seem as if 
God governs the inanimate creation through the vice-agency 
of subalterns, in the shape of second causes, whose letters 
of instruction are known to all, while He commands man- 
kind in person. The laws that control the former are open 
to the observation of science ; not so with the laws that 
control the latter. The philosopher may tell where a comet 
will drop a thousand years hence, but he cannot tell where 
his own days will end. He can lay down the laws of celes- 
tial harmony, but not those of life and death. There seems 
to be something about the moral atmosphere which sur- 
rounds man which excludes the entrance of these general 
laws. 

Rien rfest certain que Vimprevu, 

says a French proverb. " There is nothing certain but the 
unforeseen." An "accidental" surfeit of pork so deranged 
Napoleon I.'s stomach as to lose him the battle of Leipsic. 
The " accidental" delay of an aid-de-camp lately saved Na- 
poleon III.'s life. History is but the analysis of "acci- 
dents," and biography their narrative. As we come down 
to domestic life, these interruptions of general law increase. 
The movements of large bodies of _men may be determined 
beforehand by law, but not the movements of individuals. 
In tan thousand individuals we can positively say that there 
12 



134 RECONCILIATION : § 90-91 

will be ten who will die in a given period ; but there is no 
one to whom we can say, "this day one year, or ten years 
hence, you will cease to exist." No one who looks back on 
the past will deny that by "chance," as distinguished from 
"law," the main results of his history have been produced. 
No one can look forward to the future and deny that it is 
by the uncertain that it is to be controlled.* 

§ 90. If, then, it is at the human end of the system that 
this uncertainty exists ; if, as we approach nearer man, these 
laws yield more and more to irregularities, we are pointed 
to an inquiry into the human constitution in order to see 
whether an explanation of these apparent contradictions 
may be found. We find the signals in the telegraph weak- 
ening as they reach a particular point, and we look to see 
if there be a leakage at that point before we decide that 
there is a defect in the electric fluid. And this course 
seems the more appropriate from the fact that, until other 
methods of accounting for these defects fail, it seems unrea- 
sonable to charge the Creator of all things with imperfection. 

b\ These apparent contradictions may be reconciled 
by the following assumptions : — 

a 1 . Man is in a state of exile from God. 

§ 91. During the French Indian wars, a party of Indians 
made an attack on a Moravian cottage in Northeastern 
Pennsylvania, at the time of family worship, and suc- 
ceeded in carrying off a little girl of three or four years of 
age. Season after season the parents of the child endea- 
vored to discover her, but in vain. Ten years, however, had 

* See pott, I 213-14-15. 



1 § 91 MAN AN EXILE. 135 

passed, when it was reported that a white girl, very weather- 
beaten and worn, had been captured from some Indians in 
the neighborhood of Pittsburg. The mother of the lost 
girl proceeded there, but was unable to recognize in the 
captive any traces of her own child. At last she bethought 
her of the hymn tune that was sung on the fatal evening of 
the Indian descent. She began to sing it, and at once the 
mass of superincumbent rubbish on the child's memory was 
removed. The far past became the immediate present, and 
the exile was recalled home. 

There is something like this in the ordinary human con- 
sciousness. There are phenomena which it is hard to ac- 
count for except on the supposition that man has a Heavenly 
Father, but that from that Father's home he is now banished. 
He speaks not, at least in his normal condition, the lan- 
guage of heaven, and yet that language awakens in him 
strange memories. Even without revelation he worships an 
unknown God. He has memories, subtle and strange, that 
call back the language of a lost home. There is an almost 
universal consciousness that a God exists, and yet there is a 
feeling that the avenues to that God's throne are blocked. 
So it is with all, from the polished Greek, who erects a 
temple even to the deities of the stranger and the outcast, 
to the rude Indian, who worships God in tree and wind.* 



* Bishop Butler thus writes : — " That He is infinite in power, 
perfect in wisdom and goodness, makes no alteration, but only 
that He is the object of these affections raised to the highest 
pitch. He is not, indeed, to be discerned by any of our senses. 
I go forward, but He is not there ; and backward, but I cannot 
see Him : on the left hand, where He doth iuo7'Jc, but I cannot be- 



136 MAN AN EXILE. § 92 

§ 92. This banishment from God of man, does not, it is 
submitted, arise from any inability of his merely intellectual 
powers. These he possesses amply enough for even indefinite 
comprehension ; for time and space form no barrier to Jiuman 
intellect. It takes, it is said, two millions of years for the rays 
of the most distant of the recently discovered stars to reach 
us ; the human mind conceives of and pictures to itself such 
a star in an instant. And, to show the triumph of in- 
tellect over the material it uses, matter itself is the agent by 
which matter is to be subdued. A bit of glass, on the one 
hand, expands an atom into worlds, and, on the other hand, 
uncovers worlds to an atom. Steel, in one form, carves on 
stone, or traces on paper, or restores from the geological 
record the history of remote ages ; on the other, it brings 
the thoughts of continents together in one common pulse. 
Through this, century answereth to century ; land to land ; 
sea to sea. When we see such an agency as this, indefinite 
in its power of reaching over time and space, dropping 
helpless at the mere approach to the throne of the Most 

hold Him: He hideth Himself on the right hand, that I cannot 
see Him. that I knew where I might find Him! that I might 
come even to His seat! Job, xxii. But is He then afar off? Does 
He not fill heaven and earth with His presence ? The presence 
of our fellow-creatures affects our senses, and our senses give us 
the knowledge of their presence ; which hath different kinds of 
influence upon us : love, joy, sorrow, restraint, encouragement, 
reverence. However, this influence is not immediately from our 
senses, but from that knowledge. Thus, suppose a person neither 
to see nor hear another, not to know by any of his senses, but yet 
certainly to know that another was with him ; this knowledge 
might, and in many cases would, have one or more of the effects 
before mentioned." — Sermon on the Love of God. 



§ 92 A MORAL FALL. 137 

High ; when we see how that avenue is covered with the 
broken fragments of the speculations of intellects the boldest 
and strongest, we may well believe that there has been here 
some great disruption that has severed man from his God, 
and driven him an exile from a heavenly home. It is as if, 
by a deserted telegraph line, we see the posts fallen, and the 
wires lying tangled and broken on the ground. We can 
well believe that once the magnetic fluid passed through 
that now broken wire. We can feel that the very point 
where we now stand was once brought into immediate com- 
munication with the great centres of human society. Now, 
however, all that remains is a broken instrument, incapable 
itself of bearing a message, but significant of two great 
truths : first, former capacity for communication ; and, 
second, a shock by which this capacity has been destroyed. 

Now, are not these same phenomena observable in man ? 
Do we not see, first, the remains of former grandeur, the 
traces of former communication and sympathy with God, of 
a heart that throbbed in a reciprocal pulsation with that of 
the Most High himself ; and do we not see, also, evidence 
of some great catastrophe by which this exquisite instru- 
ment was shattered ? In other words, do we not find 
here the base of two great propositions which will go a 
great way toward solving these difficulties, — an original crea- 
tion in holiness and in unison with God, and a subsequent 
fall and perversion, followed by a judicial exile ?* 

* "Consider once more the religious aspirations and capacities 
of religious attraction that are garnered up, and still live in the 
ruins of humanity. How plain it is, in all the most forward de- 
monstrations of the race, that man is a creature of religion ; a 
12* 



138 nature : § 93 

§ 93. Let us take, for illustration, one of the several 
topics which have been already discussed as exhibiting the 
goodness and wisdom of God. Take the ocean, and view it 
on one of its charts, and see how its face is marked with 
dangerous shoals, with sunken rocks, with stormy coasts. 
Yiew, also, the iceberg ; undoubtedly, as it sallies forth into 
Southern seas, a great mitigator of tropical heat, and yet, 



creature secretly allied to God himself, as the needle to the pole, 
attracted toward God, aspiring consciously or unconsciously to 
the friendship and love of God. Neither is it true that, in his 
fallen state, he has no capacity left of affection or religious attrac- 
tion, till it is first new created in him. All his capacities of love 
and truth are in hiin still, only buried and stifled by the smolder- 
ing ruin in which he lies. There is a capacity in him still to be 
moved and drawn, to be charmed and melted by the Divine love 
and beauty. The old affinity lives, though smothered in selfish- 
ness and lust, and even proves itself in sorrowful evidence when 
he bows himself down to -a reptile or an idol. He will do his 
most expensive works for religion. There is a deep panting still 
in his bosom, however suppressed, that cries inaudibly and sobs 
with secret longing after God. Hence the sublime unhappiness 
of the race. There is a vast, immortal want stirring on the world 
and forbidding it to rest. In the cursing and bitterness, in the 
deceit of tongues, in the poison of asps, in the swiftness to blood, 
in all the destruction and misery of the world's ruin, there is yet 
a vast insatiate hunger for the good, the true, the holy, the divine, 
and a great part of the misery of the ruin is that it is so great a 
ruin ; a desolation of that which cannot utterly perish, and still lives, 
asserting its defrauded rights and reclaiming its lost glories. And 
therefore it is that life becomes an experience to the race so tragic 
in its character, so dark and wild, so bitter, so incapable of 
peace. The way of peace we cannot know till we find our peace 
where our immortal aspirations place it, in the fullness and the 
friendly eternity of God." — Bushnell's Sermons on the New 
Life, p. 63. 



§ 94 A CHASTISER. 139 

at the same time, as with its comrades it issues in grim pro- 
cession from its fastnesses in the North, a remorseless devas- 
tator of whatever life or wealth it may happen to strike. 
In the silence and calm of a windless and currentless sea 
these gaunt and awful marauders of the ocean march on- 
ward, impelled, as it would seem, by some interior energy 
that propels them by its elemental force. The motive 
power, in fact, is one of those under-currents so essential to 
the due purification of the sea, which strikes the submerged 
base of the iceberg, generally so much greater than its glit- 
tering heights, and drives it onward with such tremendous 
power. . It would seem as if these giant corsairs from the 
North are drawn by the force of currents to a special rendez- 
vous at the "great bend," near latitude 43°. Here, touch- 
ing the edge of the Gulf Stream, some of the most benefi- 
cent forces in Nature combine to invest them with peculiar 
peril. When under full head, a steamship would be over- 
taken by them, and woe to that vessel which comes into 
collision with their brilliant but pitiless bulwarks. Among 
the numberless vessels that have thus fallen may be placed 
two of the finest that modern skill has constructed — the 
President and the Pacific. 

§ 94. Let us take another illustration from the same 
quarter. The vessel bound from England to the Capes of 
the Delaware or Chesapeake is "met by snow-storms and 
gales which mock the seaman's strength and set at naught 
his skill. In a little while his bark becomes a mass of ice ; 
with her crew frosted and helpless, she remains obedient 
only to her helm, and is kept away for the Gulf Stream. 
After a few hours' run, she reaches its edge, and, almost at 



140 MORAL DISCIPLINE § 94 

the next bound, passes from the midst of winter into a sea 
at summer-heat. Now the ice disappears from her apparel ; 
the sailor bathes his stiffened limbs in tepid waters ; feeling 
himself invigorated and refreshed with the genial warmth 
about him, he realizes, out there at sea, the fable of Antaeus 
and his mother earth. He rises up and attempts to make 
his port again, and is again as rudely met and beaten back 
from the northward ; but each time that he is driven off 
from the contest, he comes forth from this stream, like the 
ancient son of Xeptune, stronger and stronger, until, after 
many days, his freshened strength prevails, and he at last 
triumphs and enters his haven in safety ; though in this 
contest he sometimes falls to rise no more, for it is often 
terrible. Many ships annually founder in these gales."* 
It is the same wherever man and the inanimate creation 
come in contact. Nature bears, it is true, the horn of plenty 
in the one hand, but she carries in the other the rod of dis- 
cipline. The coal mine yields up its inexhaustible stores, 
but below issues a gas ready to poison or explode, and 
above beetles the earth, ready to fall in and bury. Mr. 
Huskisson is torn to pieces on a railway, which his clear 
head and resolute purpose led him to be foremost to ap- 
preciate and carry through ; the great gun of the Prince- 
ton, exhibited as one of the first products of mechanical art, 
bursts and destroys the chief of the very department un- 
der whose auspices the exhibition was made. Iron, pro- 
claimed by the late Francis Horner to be the chief engine 
of modern civilization, is the great agency which pro- 

* Maury's Geog. of the Seas. 



§ 95 PROVING A FALL. 141 

duces by far the greater proportion of violent deaths. 
Even climate, while it marches forward, sowing the seeds of 
life, carries also a scythe by which, in the moist winds of 
spring, the sultry heats of summer, the bitter storms of 
winter, multitudes are swept into their graves. 

§ 95. The inquiry then comes, is there anything in the 
character of man, the only agent existing on the face of 
the earth as the subject of moral discipline, which can ex- 
plain phenomena such as have been noticed ? Let it be 
remembered that the analogies of science lead us to this 
very kind of inquiry. If the comparative anatomist, for 
instance, discovers an anomalous bone, he does not de- 
clare that here is an evidence of imperfection or caprice on 
the part of the Creator, but he looks to the properties of 
the specimen, and judges of the remainder of the animal 
by the peculiarities he thus observes. " This," he decides, 
" is the part of an animal that is granivorous ; that of one 
that is carnivorous." So it is with respect to the physical 
properties which certain atmospheres engender. We look 
at Jupiter, and, as we observe the tremendous pressure of 
the gravitation which bears upon his bottomless seas and his 
light soil, we conclude that, if he be populated at all, it must 
be by animals light of weight and strong of muscle. We 
turn to Saturn, and when we observe that his density is 
scarcely above that of cork, and that the amount of light 
and heat that reaches him is only a nineteenth of that of 
the earth, we conclude that his inhabitants, if possessed of 
the same type of organization as our own, must have the 
senses manifold more acute, and the sensibilities to the same 
degree more obtuse. We turn to Mars, and, as we find that 



142 man's exile § 96-97 

the gravity at his surface is only half of that with us, we 
make allowance for a double bulk on the part of those who 
dwell amid the sparkling snows which astronomers have 
been able to detect at his poles, or under the sultry clouds 
that float around his equator. In other words, instead of 
judging of the Creator from a section of the thing created, 
as some of those who have drawn these very conclusions 
would ask us to do, we judge of the thing created from 
such properties placed about it by the Creator as we are 
able to accept as a basis of examination. 

§ 96. Let us suppose that an inhabitant of one of these 
planets, after witnessing the scarred and corrugated moral 
atmosphere of our own globe; after seeing only fissures of 
sunlight through lowering banks of clouds ; after seeing 
how crushingly grief or oppression gravitates the heart 
downward in one place, and how genially home and social 
influences unite in another to cheer and elevate it, and yet 
how certainly these influences are, sooner or later, destroyed ; 
what would an intelligent observer be likely to conclude 
with regard to the moral character of those to whom this 
atmosphere was adjusted ? Would not such an observer, 
after witnessing these phenomena, and noticing the marks of 
Divine wisdom and love rising superior to the whole, con- 
clude that man is in a state of exile from God, continued on 
his part voluntarily, and accompanied by severe penalties — 
that home is meant to teach, and not to worship — and that 
all the mechanism of Nature is so adapted as to instruct and 
discipline, but, at the same time, to prepare for another 
life? 

§ 97. b' 1 . The human heart, so far from maintaining a 



§ 98 god's judgments. 143 

communion with God, is inclined more and more to place 
its. affections on things earthly. 

Why else is it that life is made so short ? Why is it that 
while there may be special "runs of luck," as they are 
called, the longest and most fortunate of lives meets, sooner 
or later, with its heavy cross, or, if that cross come not, 
goes at last naked out of that world where its attire was so 
splendid, — goes from the home of luxury to the cold and 
loathsome grave ? How can we account for the inadhesive- 
ness, as it were, of all earthly good, — for that quality which 
apparently intervenes to loosen and break off the attach- 
ments of man to whatever those attachments cling ? Does 
not this discipline of affliction, — of disappointment, of 
casualty, of wind and storm, of earthquake and blight, of 
disease and pestilence, — does not this discipline, viewed 
from the stand-point thus taken, demonstrate a settled ten- 
dency toward the idolatry of human wealth and comfort on 
the part of those to whose moral standard this system is 
adapted ? We visit a lunatic asylum, or a prison, and judge 
of the character of the inmates from the character of the 
restraints placed on them. " This man," we say, if we 
start with proof aliunde of the benevolence and wisdom of 
the government of the institution, " has a temper violent and 
ungovernable ; this is gentle but melancholy. Restraints 
we find in one place; encouragements in another." May 
we not say the same, when we view the system of min- 
gled encouragements and restraints with which the world 
abounds ? 

§ 98. c 2 . There is a future retribution which demands 
that the free agency of those subject to it should remain 



144 MAN HELPLESS WITHOUT GOD. § 99 

unimpaired, while there are such general influences about it 
as will promote patience, submission, and earnest endeavor. 

It would have been practicable to have created a groove 
out of which human purpose could not run. We can 
suppose such an observer as we have described, could he 
see a compulsory mechanism which would exact a specific 
course and no other, declare, " Here are no moral agents ; 
these are automata who are as much the creatures of positive 
control as are the stars in their orbits." But when he observes 
the moral atmosphere around man, his opinion would greatly 
change. " Here," he would say, "is an agency, not to com- 
pel, but to invite patience and energy. Here comes the 
spring, with its slow vegetation, interrupted by occasional 
frosts and storms, but at the same time showing how indus- 
try and endurance will bring forth the tardy crop. Here 
comes the storm at sea, admonishing man how incompetent 
are science and skill to secure an always favorable voyage. 
Here are varied elements, such as climate and soil, combin- 
ing to preserve individuality, to excite energy, to counsel 
submission." Under so artificially constructed a system of 
influences such as these, — not powers, — there must dwell a 
moral agent, and one whose destiny corresponds in its 
grandeur to the splendid apparatus of which this system 
consists. 

§ 99. d\ These disciplinary influences, however, are 
insufficient without the special Divine aid. 

Let such an observer, for instance, view such a storm 
as that which destroyed the San Francisco. Let him 
notice the sublime and awful spectacle produced by the 
crash of thunder, the fierce swell of the billows, the vio- 



§ 100 WRITTEN REVELATION. 145 

lence of the wind. Or let him pass to those cities that 
have been desolated by the plague, or to those scenes of 
Eastern torture, such as the Black Hole of Calcutta, where 
death in its most appalling shapes is slowly pressed into a 
mass of human beings. If he reverse the process of inquiry, 
he will find that while such scenes produce with some awe 
and submission, with others they generate a fierce and brutal 
despair. The scenes of lust and outrage on board the sink- 
ing San Francisco ; of levity in Florence during the plague, 
as depicted by Boccaccio in his Decameron ; of pillage in 
London and Philadelphia under similar circumstances, as 
described by De Foe and Charles Brockden Brown, — go to 
show that without some special spiritual influence, even the 
most awful of material phenomena would fail of their effect. 
While, therefore, the visible creation is made to bear its 
part in the aid of human probation, the work is not one of 
mechanical constraint, but room remains for the distinct 
and special introduction, under conditions consistent with 
probation, of Divine aid. 

§ 100. e\ A written revelation, as a final educationary 
process, is a priori probable under such a dispensation. 

God, we may assume from the phenomena of the ma- 
terial universe, is equally unlimited in His command of 
resources, and in His capacity for comprehensive as well as 
for particular government. The elaboration of the minutest 
atom, and the comfort of the humblest form of animal life, 
are no more below His providence than the pre-arrangement 
of the spheres above it. His administration, as has been 
further shown, is one of general laws written on the skies 
and earth. He has not thought it beneath Him to engrave 
13 



146 WRITTEN REVELATION § 100 

on the rocks, in letters which myriads of years have not 
effaced, the history of the successive miracles by which He 
filled the earth with organic life. It is not a priori improba- 
ble, therefore, that He should lay down laws for the moral 
government of a race for whose physical interests He has 
shown such a tender concern, nor that He should place these 
laws on record. He is like a father, whose children, emigrat- 
ing we may suppose to a distant colony, where they must 
necessarily be dependent on their own energies for support, 
stand peculiarly in need of that advice which their father's 
superior wisdom can best give. What so likely as that such a 
father, knowing how fluctuating is memory, and how liable 
it is to be modified by passion or interest, should place in 
writing that information as to their history and ultimate 
destiny, and those precepts for their government, which 
their necessities require ? And is not this presumption 
strengthened when we discover throughout the narrative of 
this father's relations to his children, the traces of a mind 
not only eminently systematic and law-loving, but prone to 
register for his children's study, even though a most com- 
plicated mechanism be required for the purpose, those laws 
and systems by which his own conduct is governed ? 

This view is strengthened when we tarn toward the con- 
dition and constitution of man. He is, as has just been 
seen, incapable of self-renovation. The world in which he 
lives has been said to be a temple desecrated by sin; and if 
so, how sad must be his fate, who, as the sole moral agency 
in this world, stands as it were by the altar to which the 
aisles of this vast but sin-desolated pile converge. Inade- 
quate to the work of restoring either himself or the splendid 



§ 100 A PRIORI PROBABLE. 14t 

ruin in which he dwells ; not only corrupt himself but corrupt- 
ing even the traditions of truth that he retains, what so 
natural as that the loving and Almighty Father who placed 
him here, — that law-loving and law-recording Father, — 
should not merely give him spiritual solace and instruction, 
but should so perpetuate that solace and instruction that 
they may be preserved uncorrupted and intact. That such 
a revelation, incorporating the laws necessary for the govern- 
ment of the human race, should be written, the analogies of 
man's nature seem to indicate. Men, in all their variations 
of race and family, resort to writing as the best means of 
giving permanency to their own laws, and recording their 
own thoughts. The dangers, which the experience of society 
proves, of the perversion or the loss of mere oral tradition, 
would enter into the governmental calculations of an intel- 
ligent observer, to say nothing of an omniscient God. 
What, then, would be more likely than for such a G-od, in 
speaking to such a race, to use such a medium as would be 
most consistent with His wisdom and tenderness, and their 
infirmities ? 

"But," it may be objected, "if this be true, a written re- 
velation would have been coeval with the human race." But 
can we apply the tests of time to a being who is uncondi- 
tioned by time ? And is it not plain, if we are to judge 
from cosmical history, that the plan of the Divine Architect 
of the universe is to introduce successively improving periods 
by terraces or grades, adopting neither on the one hand a 
simultaneous and complete production, nor on the other a 
gradual development ? The earth was first created without 
form and void. Then a rough and drossy scum writhed 



148 WRITTEN REVELATION § 100 

and quivered over the molten ocean beneath. Then, as 
this scum toughened into a crust, it was fractured by fissures 
through which burst volcanic fires showering upward tor- 
rents of fused rock and metal afterwards to harden into 
mountains. Thousands of years passed before the fat allu- 
vial soil began to cover this skeleton of bone and iron ; 
thousands of years more before life appeared in the flood or 
on the fast land ; thousands of years more before we find 
the vestiges of man. It is not for us to seek a reason for 
this, to us, slow dignity in the march of the Divine purpose. 
It may be, it is true, that of the Almighty, to whom time and 
space are nothing, the patient majesty and the rising cycles of 
laws, may be an essential attribute in the progress of His 
own administration as well as in the education of His rational 
creatures. But be this as it may, the analogy of God's deal- 
ings with the material creation leads us to suppose a priori 
that the dispensations by which He would communicate His 
solaces and directions to man would be in a progressive 
series, and not in a revelation complete at its first utter- 
ance. The educational processes of revelation would be 
likely to correspond with those of natural religion in the 
terracelike ascents by which they would rise in complete- 
ness. Man as a race, as it is with man as an individual, would 
have several distinct class-books of instruction. At first 
he would receive, though with powers as yet incapable of 
precise perception, the communications of his God and 
Father speaking inarticulately at a period when the forms of 
language were unknown. Then we can suppose an era of 
tradition,- until the moment when through the infirmities 
and corruptions of our nature these traditions would lose 



§100 A PRIORI PROBABLE. 149 

their virtue. Then we can suppose an education by example 
and precept, not directly, for this would hamper moral 
agency, and be at variance with the analogy of civil society, 
but through a specific order or nation, who, favored with 
greater religious light, (as in all times there have been na- 
tions favored with greater intellectual light and geographi- 
cal advantages,) could become a medium for the religious 
tuition and enlightenment of others. Then next we may 
suppose a written revelation. Such a series of dispensa- 
tions would be at least not at variance with the divine polity 
as developed in cosmical history. And yet this series is no 
more than what we find in the Patriarchal, the Jewish, and 
the Christian economies.* 

But, it may be further objected, that this position proves 
too much, for it goes to show that written revelation, like 
the dispensations of the material world, is subject to a gra- 
dual development, and hence that the Romish view of tra- 
ditional and progressive interpretation is correct. But the 
answer to this is complete. If the analogy is worth any- 
thing, it goes to show that these dispensations rise, to carry 
out an illustration already given, not as a slope, but as a 
series of terraces. " It is a truth which I consider now as 
proved," says Agassiz,f "that the ensemble of organized 
beings was renewed not only in the interval of each of the 
great geological divisions which we have agreed to term 
formations, but also at the time of the deposition of each 

* See on this point, post, \ 173. 

f Twelfth Report of British Association, p. 85. See also ante, 
I 30-40. 

13* 



150 WRITTEN REVELATION § 100 

particular member of all the formations. I cannot admit 
the idea of the transformation of species from one formation 
to another." And so a very recent and capable observer, 
already quoted,* tells us that " species did not pass into 
one another by transmutation, but that each species was 
introduced in full perfection, remained unchanged during 
the term of their existence, and died in full perfection." 
"As far as the evidence of geology extends, each species 
was introduced by the direct miraculous interference of a 
personal intelligence. There has indeed been a constantly 
increasing series, but the connection between the terms of 
the series has not been physical or genetic, but intellectual ; 
not founded in the laws of reproduction, but in the eternal 
counsels of the Almighty." What we would be led by 
geological analogy to believe would be that each specific 
dispensation (e.g. the written) would remain intact and 
unprogressive, until the same miraculous power that called 
it into existence should, by the same supernatural interpo- 
sition and attestation, replace it by another. The clouded 
gloss of language may be removed, and the creature may see 
the Creator face to face. But this will not be by any gradual 
self- clarifying power of the text, nor by the action of the 
human reader, but by the direct and miracle- attested agency 
of the Almighty Himself, as preliminary to a new and final 
stage of existence, f 

I have now brought this inquiry as far as the limits of 
natural religion permit me to go. But the practical ques- 

* Professor Le Conte, Smithsonian Inst it. Rep. 1357, p. 168. 
f See post, I 227. 



§ 100 A PRIORI PROBABLE. 151 

tion remains, if there be a written revelation, can this be 
anything else than the Christian Scriptures ? 

If the propositions which have been stated in this chapter 
may be fairly inferred from the phenomena of creation, — if, 
in other words, it be considered as thus established that man 
is in a state of exile from his God, — that the human heart, 
so far from maintaining a communion with God, is inclined 
more and more to place its affections on things earthly, — 
that the soul is reserved for a high future destiny, which de- 
mands that its free agency should remain unimpaired, but 
that there should be such influences about it as to educate 
it to patience, to submission, and to earnest endeavor, — that 
these disciplinary influences, however, are insufficient with- 
out special divine aid, — we are able to find not merely an 
explanation of but a reason for that very union of general 
laws with special providences, — of blessings with warn- 
ings, of beneficence with discipline, of sunshine with 
storm, — by which the operations of the material world are 
marked. Such a view, in fact, only completes the proof of 
that adaptation of cause to effect, and of that beneficent and 
general contrivance, which even when viewed in their merely 
material relations, go so far to establish the existence, the 
wisdom, the mercy, and the justice of God. 



BOOK SECOND. 

SKEPTICAL THEORIES. 



CHAPTER I. 

"AN IMPERFECT CREATOR." 

§ 101. An imperfect creation, it is said, argues an imper- 
fect Creator. The logical force of this position has been 
already noticed.* It will further be examined under the 
following heads : — 

a. Inability of the finite to measure. 

§ 102. We stand, for instance, at the centre of one of 
our great Western prairies. We look at the distant hori- 
zon, and discover on it lines which appear to us, as in sharp 
precision they stand up against the vivid sky, like the cas- 
tellated roof of a Gothic mansion. As we approach, the 
object gradually loses its architectural precision, and sub- 
sides, perhaps, into a low range of hills, perhaps into a 

* Ante, \ 87. 
(152) §101-102 



§102 "AN IMPERFECT CREATOR." 153 

series of cabins. On the other hand, under a less luminous 
atmosphere, the building of real splendor and beauty may, 
in the distant view, appear but as a hovel. 

This is still more striking in the opinions we form 
of questions of possibility which are not within the range 
of visual observation. Many men of science scouted at the 
idea of crossing the Atlantic by steam : some men of science 
believed in the pretended moon discoveries of Locke. One 
of the most agreeable of our French North American ex- 
plorers tells us a story of an Indian council which illustrates 
this. A young brave had been sent to Washington to confer 
with the Great Father. He returned, with a remarkable ac- 
count of witches and wizards whom he had seen in endless pro- 
cessions in the East. All this was listened to with profound re- 
spect and confidence. He went on, however, to add that, among 
other things, he had observed a canoe sailing in the air with a 
ball of wind on top of it. At once the demeanor of his audience 
changed, and it being pronounced that so great a liar ought 
not to live, the narrator was forthwith shot. A Japanese 
king, we are told, was almost equally demonstrative of his 
disapproval of those who told him that in England water 
became solid in cold weather. Herodotus narrates — with all 
the gossiping vivacity of the most satisfied credulity — 
stories of monsters, dwarfs, giants, cannibals, of beasts that 
were three-quarters men, and men wholly beasts ; of rivers 
that were scarcely less than oceans, and of palaces that were 
greater than pyramids. But, at the same time, after re- 
lating the observation of the Phoenician mariners, that in 
doubling what is now the Cape of Good Hope they had the 
meridian sun on the north, the same historian, himself not 



154 SKEPTICAL THEORIES. § 103 

the least philosophical of his order, says, " anybody else 
may believe this, but to me it is perfectly incredible." To 
those who look upon such confusions of belief with unbelief, 
as the accompaniments of a primitive or barbaric state, it is 
only necessary to point out the period when the most culti- 
vated people of the seventeenth century persecuted those 
who would not believe in witches, and those who would be- 
lieve that the earth revolved round the sun. 

§ 103. This imperfection of vision is a necessary incident 
of that limitation which, as will presently be seen, belongs 
to created things. This is admirably illustrated in the fol- 
lowing remarks by Dr. Ferguson : — " If the human foetus 
were qualified to reason of his prospects in the womb of his 
parent, as he may afterwards do in his range on this terres- 
trial globe, he might no doubt apprehend in the breach of 
his umbilical cord, and in his separation from the womb, a 
total extinction of life, for how could he conceive it to con- 
tinue after his only supply of nourishment from the vital 
stock of his parent had ceased ? He might indeed observe 
many parts of his organization and frame which would 
seem to have no relation to his state in the womb. For 
what purpose, he might say, this duct which leads from the 
mouth to the intestines ? Why these bones that each apart 
become hard and stiff, while they are separated from one 
another by so many flexures or joints ? Why these joints 
in particular made to move upon hinges, and these germs of 
teeth, which are pushing to be felt above the surface of the 
gums ? Why the stomach through which nothing is made 
to pass ? And these spongy lungs, so well fitted to drink 
up the fluids, but into which the blood that passes every- 



§104 "AN IMPERFECT CREATOR." 155 

where else is scarcely permitted to enter ? To these queries, 
which the foetus was neither qualified to make nor to answer, 
we are now well apprised the proper answer would be : The 
life which you now enjoy is but temporary ; and those par- 
ticulars which now seem to you so preposterous, are a pro- 
vision which Mature has made for a future course of life 
which you have to run, and in which their use and propriety 
will appear sufficiently evident."* 

§ 104. This analogy might be pushed so as to give ma- 
terials from which, by a very simple induction, we may draw 
the proposition, that in our present limited and probationary 
state the imperfection of our vision is such as to prevent us 
from comprehending at any period the conditions of any 
subsequent stage through which we are to pass. The boy 
sees not the trials he will have to encounter as a man, and 
when he is told of struggles and defeats ahead, he turns 
from the scene as belonging to a distinct existence. The 
man of mature years sees not before him the picture of his 
own frame slowly descending the path that leads to the 
grave. He listens, perhaps, to the story of affliction, but he 
comprehends it not until the crushing grief at last comes. 
Then there is an almost infinite depth of experience opened to 
him of which before he knew only by the memorials erected 
by others on its outer surface. It is this that gives to old 
age what is so often a stony and unsympathizing wisdom — 
a wisdom not so remarkable for its practical value as for its 
apparently supernatural detachment from the concerns of 
active life. And yet, even this wisdom, when merely human, 

* See Conybeare's Theol. Lect., pp. 81, 82. 



156 INFINITUDE INCOMPREHENSIBLE. § 105 

has its range of observation closed by the tomb. Every life 
is thus divided into stages separated by periods through 
which the vision does not pass. We cannot comprehend, 
when in childhood, the conditions which in manhood will 
take us from love of pleasure to the pursuit of wealth and 
honor ; we cannot comprehend in manhood the condi- 
tions which in old age will make us seek rest ; we cannot, 
on this side of the grave, comprehend the conditions which 
will surround us in a future world. We only know that we 
are proceeding onward by progressive periods of develop- 
ment, and, like the traveler ascending a mountainous range by 
a series of terraces, we at the moment see only the particu- 
lar sweep before us, thinking that to be the last ascent, and 
observing not the next, until we find that what appeared the 
summit is only the base of another rise. 

The imperfection of our finite faculties should thus ever 
be kept in view when we undertake to determine on the ap- 
propriateness of the plans of the Eternal and Infinite ; and 
this view is strengthened by the additional important fact 
that our nature is so constituted as to confine its powers of 
actual comprehension to the conditions belonging to it at 
the particular moment,* It will be presently shown that this 
limitedness of vision is a necessary incident of probation, f 

b. Incapacity of the infinite for measurement. 

§ 105. Let us take one of the extremest cases that can be 
afforded us of physical evil. Let us observe a lifetime of 
patient suffering, harrowed, it may be, by poverty, by linger- 
ing disease, by loss of friends. Let us imagine this life to 

* See post, 245. f Post, \ 109. 






§ 105 INFINITY INCOMPREHENSIBLE. 157 

be protracted far beyond the ordinary limits, and the ex- 
quisiteness of its appreciation of distress refined far beyond 
the usual oound. But what then ? Next conies the grave, 
and then eternity. It is as if we should be summoned be- 
fore a gigantic counter, on which stand the scales of the 
universe. On one side we find this life of misery, which 
may be represented by a weight of any degree of definite 
immensity that may be chosen. But then comes the other 
scale. There come mountains upon mountains of weight, 
each in turn waiting to be calculated, and each forming part 
of an infinite range behind. The question is not whether 
this particular life's grief is to be outweighed by the infinite 
counter-balances of eternity. For this is done before the 
process of outweighing is even begun. The scale never 
even begins to quiver. If we adapt such a process of mea- 
surement to our own standards, it is as if we dropped into 
one pan a grain so imperceptible as not even to overcome 
the friction of the pivot, while an indefinite number of other 
weights stood ready on the other to be interposed. 

Incomprehensibility is an essential attribute in the infinite. 
When it is comprehended, it becomes finite. There is always, 
as has been noticed, an indefinite extension of time beyond 
the period at which we stand, and this indefinite extension 
of time forms material amply compensatory for any irregu- 
larity. JSTor does time come in alone for this purpose. 
There is also an indefinite compensatory medium in space. 
A globule, for instance, to the unarmed vision of the ancient 
sages appeared a mystery ; and the best they could do was 
to declare that here the animated creation ceased. The 
milky-way, to the astronomers of old, was a desert of the 
14 



158 RELIGION PRACTICAL: §106 

skies, whose dreary wastes were only traversed by those no- 
madic comets whose fierce retinues were regarded as carry- 
ing destruction wherever they swept. But the globule, under 
the microscope, is now a new world of life, — through the 
telescope the milky-way is a city of planets, and the tails of 
comets are nothing more than impalpable mists. 

Let us look, again, at the fact of disturbance, which, when 
it was first observed, was supposed to interfere with the ap- 
plication of Newton's great law of gravitation to the hea- 
venly system. But it was soon found that this disturbance 
of the motion of the planets, which arose from their mutual 
attraction, and which was looked upon as threatening 
some great convulsion, was compensated for by a provision 
made specially to counteract it. It required, however, all 
the present perfection of the telescope to show that this 
aberration is part of the celestial harmony, not a deviation 
from it. What right have we, then, to say that when a 
keener vision enables us to see the ultimate bearing of 
these difficulties, they will not, in like manner, vanish ? 

§ 106. Religion, in fact, comes to teach us practice, not 
speculation — duty, not philosopjliy. For reasons not given 
to us, but perhaps from the fact that if it taught the latter 
instead of the former, the great work of a hardy, earnest, 
faith-depending probation, would sink into a dreamy ideali- 
zation, or an inexorable fatalism, — religion, both ^natural 
and revealed, confines itself to practical teaching. Man, 
when set down in this life to his work of probation, is like 
an emigrant who goes forth to settle in one of the territories 
of our Western frontier. It is desired, we may assume, to 
furnish him with such facilities as will be most likely to make 



§ 106 NOT SPECULATIVE. 159 

him an effective farmer. We will suppose him, with a party 
of other colonists, to be placed on one of the islands of 
verdure w'hich intersperse the arid plains that are divided 
by the River Platte. A government survey has lately been 
made of that remarkable region, and so much of this is 
handed to him as will enable him to discharge his particular 
work. Information as to the character of the soil and cli- 
mate is placed in his hands. The soundings and courses 
of the sluggish river by whose side he is seated — those of 
the impetuous Missouri into which it runs — are laid before 
him as important in showing where and how his produce is 
to find a market. But beyond this immediate locality and 
those with which it is brought in business contact it is not 
necessary to supply him with details. There are many 
reasons why it would not be desirable for him to take with 
him a topographical survey of the entire universe. One is, 
that it would be so cumbrous that he could not carry it ; 
another is, that if he undertook to study it, it would leave 
him no time for farming ; another is, that the speculative 
habit which, if so employed, he might acquire, would unfit 
him for the humbler work of tilling the ground. It is true, 
there is a great deal that is-incomprehensible in the pheno- 
mena about him, but nothing that is so is of a character 
whose explanation would facilitate his farming. He may or 
may not know what is the true source of the Mississippi. 
It is enough for him to know where he can most conveni- 
ently strike that river, and to what markets it will carry his 
produce. Photographs of the stars, such as science is now 
producing, might form interesting objects of curiosity, or of 
philosophical speculation, but may be postponed to an 



160 INCOMPREHENSIBILITY, § 10*7 

almanac, giving him the rising and setting of the sun, and 
the most concise and appropriate information as to the crops 
to be planted in his immediate locality. What he would be 
furnished by those who wished him well in his new enter- 
prise, would be information as to the field he has to work, 
and the duties expected of him in connection with it. 

§ 107. Now what we would expect man to do, supposing 
him to act kindly and beneficiently to his fellow-man, we 
may well expect from the Divine Ruler of the universe, 
under similar circumstances. As the chart of universal 
knowledge is in His hands, and as that chart is infinite, 
there must be some portions of it which, in submitting it to 
a finite creature, must be withdrawn. Man, with his three- 
score years and ten, could not go through a course of study 
which would take him an eternity. A certain portion must 
be therefore selected for his aid, and what so fit as that 
which relates to the practical duties incumbent on him in 
the special period of time in which he is placed ? He will 
be told his duty toward his God and his duty toward his 
neighbor, — he will be taught, through the phenomena of the 
seasons, of the earth and the seas, the importance of faith, 
of patience, of industry, of doing to his fellow-man as he 
would be done by, and of reverence to his God. But there 
will be a horizon somewhere, and we would expect that 
the horizon would be placed just where the practical passes 
to the speculative. Of course, as in the map of the county 
or state placed in the emigrant's hands, the sources of the 
larger rivers are left out; so in the guide-book of the emigrant 
in this world of probation, there is a great deal in the causes 



§ 108 NO GROUND FOR DISBELIEF. 161 

of things existing, and in the reasons for prescribed duties, 
which will pass beyond the limits of observation. 

A priori, therefore, this incapacity of the infinite for 
comprehension, is what we would expect from the nature of 
the work in which man is in this life concerned. 

c. Supposing, however, such imperfections to exist. 

§ 108. a 1 . They cannot overcome the positive evidence 
of Almighty wisdom and goodness. 

Cotton Mather tells us that he preserved his equa- 
nimity by keeping two heaps in his mind, one for the 
incomprehensible, and the other for the incurable. If a 
friend treated him unjustly, and he had no opportunity of 
explanation, he took the offence off the surface of his sensi- 
bilities, where it might perhaps be acting with corrosive 
mischief, and placed it at once in the heap of the incompre- 
hensibles. If the whole thing was a mistake, of course he 
took it off this heap altogether and dismissed it from his 
possession. If, on the other hand, he found it was an in- 
tended and unjustifiable insult, he took it from the heap of 
incomprehensibles and placed it among the incurables. 
Either way it was not permitted to vex his feelings or dis- 
turb those general principles of conduct which he had pre- 
viously deliberately adopted with regard to the temper in 
which he was to regard his fellow-men. 

Now the temper in which we are to regard God may be 
governed by the same rules. Let us take at the outset a 
comprehensive view of creation, and see whether we can 
draw from it any settled conclusions as to God's nature and 
attributes. When we have done this, let us recollect that 
14* 



162 imperfections: §109 

what is incomprehensible, cannot be received to disturb 
what is positive. And this position is one which in science 
we do not hesitate to accept. Thus the existence of an un- 
explained interruption of the sidereal system is not permitted 
to shake our belief in the Copernican system. It makes no 
difference that the interruption is inexplicable. Thus aero- 
lites, or masses of iron or iron-stone, falling from the sky, of 
all sizes, from several hundred weight to a few ounces, have 
been cast on the earth in various places with such velocity 
as sometimes to bury them deep into the soil. Whence or 
how they come, is inexplicable. No rational solution of it 
has as yet been approached. And yet no astronomer, on 
account of this unexplained phenomenon, will allow his be- 
lief in the harmony of the celestial phenomenon to be dis- 
turbed. 

§ 109. 6 l . They are reconcilable with the Divine per- 
fections. 

This may be the proper place to notice the theories 
of the reconciliation of evil with the Divine perfections 
which come to us with the greatest philosophical weight. 
Let it be observed, at the outset, that the inquiry is in a 
great measure irrelevant, since the incomprehensibility of 
the topic, leaving it to stand unexplained, forms no ground, 
as has just been seen, to dispute the positive evidence of 
Divine wisdom of Goodness. " But," says Dr. Chalmers, 
"an hypothesis might subserve a great logical purpose in 
theology. And accordingly the one framed by Leibnitz 
respecting the origin of evil, even though admitted to no 
higher rank than a mere unsupported imagination, may yet 
be of force to nullify all the objections wherewith this topic 






§110 RECONCILABLE WITH A PERFECT GOD. 163 

is conceived to be pregnant, and so as to leave in their un- 
diminished strength all these affirmative props on which the 
system of theoiogy is based." This hypothesis, with those 
of a kindred purpose which have been most prominently 
before the philosophical mind, will now be noticed. 

§ 110. a 2 . Evils and imperfections are necessary to 
moral agency. 

b\ They are ordained of God, as forming part of a 
scheme, of all others the best and most perfect. 

These two points may be considered together. It is 
assumed that out of all possible schemes, God chose that 
which on the whole was best, — that to this scheme moral 
agency is a necessary incident, — that to moral agency a 
liability to temptation,* if not a certainty of sin, is essential. 
God has the possible, in all its modifications, open before 
Him, and He chooses that phase which of all the others is 
best. This scheme, as enforced by the scientific genius of 
Leibnitz, the rhetorical opulence of Chalmers, the logical 
energies of Jonathan Edwards, has been the base on which 
theologians of far divergent schools have founded their spe- 
culations. We may well pause for a moment, therefore, to 
consider on what it rests, and how far it goes.f 

* Between " liability to temptation," and " certainty of sin," a 
distinction has been taken which, as will presently be seen, divides 
two theological schools. 

f The most philosophical exposition of this position comes 
from Leibnitz, who, even by the skeptics, is ranked as the first phi- 
losopher of his age, while among Christians his orthodoxy is unim- 
peached. • Both sides, therefore, defer to him, the one testifying 
to his capacity in the search for truth, the other to his integrity 
in its delivery. He had indeed a splendid as well as a well-poised 



164 optimism: §111 

§ 111. The proposition may be illustrated, taking in the 
aid of the only class of analogies open to us, — those drawn 

intellect ; and though his almost universal genius laid him under 
tribute to all the great controversies of his times, and though he 
therefore was unable to leave behind him any complete treatise 
on any single branch, yet the sparks incidentally generated by 
him in the heat of controversy, or in the ardor of special investi- 
gation, often throw out an illumination more complete than that 
which the concentrated energies of the lives of less extraordinary 
men were able to produce. 

According to Leibnitz, the divine contemplation must neces- 
sarily, from all eternity, have included all possible forms of cosmi- 
cal existence. To that infinite eye, which embraces the conjectural 
as well as the real, all combinations of worlds were presented, in 
eacj^i of which the elements of good and evil were mingled in 
proportions always distinct but always such as to reach the com- 
mon result. From these forms that of the present universe was 
selected, as that on which the character of good was most im- 
pressed. " God then is not the author of the essences so long as 
they are but possibilities — but there is nothing actual which He 
has not decreed and given existence to; and He has permitted 
evil, because it is enveloped in the best plan, which is found in 
the region of possibles, and that divine wisdom could not fail to 
have chosen." (Essay, art. 338.) 

Evil in this way is a contingency of the infinite rather than a 
concomitant of the finite. Thus, Leibnitz tells us, " Chrysippus 
has reason to allege that vice comes from the original constitu- 
tion of some spirits. It is objected to them that God has formed 
them; and he can only reply, that the imperfection of matter does 
not permit him to do better. This reply is good for nothing ; for 
matter itself is indifferent to all forms, and besides, God has made 
it. Evil comes rather from forms themselves, but abstract ; that 
is to say, from ideas that God has not produced by an act of His 
will, no more than He has produced number and figure ; and no 
more, in one word, than all those possible essences which we re- 
gard as eternal and necessary, for they find themselves in the 
ideal region of possibles ; that is to say, in the divine understand- 
ing. God is then not the author o c these essences, in so far as 



§ 111 HOW ILLUSTRATED. 165 

from human society, — somewhat in the following fashion. 
The executive of a home government, we may suppose, is 
engaged in drawing up a constitution for a distant colony. 
He arrays before his mind the several possible schemes on 
which such a constitution can be constructed. He possesses, 
we may assume, liberal, humane, and enlightened views, con- 
trolled by a severe sense of right and of justice. Would 
it be best for him to institute, in this distant province, a 
pure democracy; an absolutism, of which he is to be the 
head; or a mixed system which would unite the elements of 
individualism and centralism ? Each of the three has its 
objections : to the first there is a danger of tumult, of dis- 
organization, of waste of power from decentralization of 
energies. The second, the nearer it would approach to per- 
fection, the nearer would it approach to a dead mechanism. 
The third, no matter how skillfully constructed, would be 
open, not merely to the incidental vices of all governments, 
but to a constant collision of forces, — men arraying them- 
selves, as their interests or temperaments prompted them, 
on the side of progress or of conservatism, and making the 
very union of liberty with authority the cause of revolt and 
disorder. Notwithstanding these evils, this form of govern- 
ment may, of all others, be the best, and as such may be 



they are only possibilities ; but there is nothing actual but what 
He discerned and called into existence, and He has permitted 
evil, because it is enveloped in the best plan which is found in 
the region of possibles ; that plan the Supreme Wisdom could not 
fail to choose. It is this uotion which at once satisfies the wis- 
dom, the power, and the goodness of G-od, and yet leaves room 
for the entrance of evil. 



166 optimism: §111 

selected with its known evils. All the possible schemes 
have their evils : this is taken because it has the least evil 
and the most good.* 

JS'ow, for reasons which it is not necessary for us to 
penetrate, God has chosen moral agencies as the best of 
all systems for the government of an intelligent creation. It 
may be sufficient for us, as an hypothesis, to assume that He 
may not choose to be a prince over stocks and stones. It 
may not be consistent with the exercise of His perfect powers 
and infinite love to gaze down upon a bleak and desolate 
universe, the mausoleum of possible existences, to Him 
actual because possible, whom death arrested and froze be- 
fore yet they sprang to life, their unheaved bosoms crossed 
by their unnerved arms, emitting no response to Him, — 
reasonless, fearless, loveless, hopeless, wantless. To Him, to 
whom what might be is always equivalent to what is, it 
may be no pleasure to see stretched before Him the corpses 
of even the possible, they, the sole representatives of organic 
life, rocked forever on the waves of a shoreless eternity, 
gazing upward to Him, the universal Father, with eyes none 
the less glassy, and frames none the less rigid and dread, 
from the fact that by the arctic severity of a merely me- 
chanical universe, the decree of non-existence was one which 
forbade rather than destroyed life. All the splendor of the 
architraves above, all the grandeur of the cosmical archi- 
tecture, all the garniture of its jewels, might not, to the 
divine vision of infinite love, compensate for the childless- 

* See this view elaborately expanded by Leibnitz, in his Theo- 
dicea, and stated by Dr. Chalmers in his Natural Theology, book v. 
chap. ii. 



§ 112 INCLUDES MORAL AGENCY. 167 

ness and desolateness of this stricken world. To Him the 
cold, metallic ringing of the spheres, as in their tenantless 
grandeur they roll over the frozen track of their eternal 
courses, may be no substitute for even the weak and dis- 
cordant cries of men. Is it inconsistent with the idea of His 
divine wisdom that He should give life and moral agency in 
preference to the death of a mere mechanical obedience ? 

§ 112. Thus far, i.e. in the assumption that God selected 
that form of polity which, of all others, was the best 
for the government of intelligent creatures, and that 
the form thus chosen was that of moral agency, the 
leading minds who have entered on the question agree. 
Here, however, they divide ; one class holds that to moral 
agency only a liability to sin is essential ; that it would not 
only have been possible to have created moral agents without 
the certainty of sin, but that moral agency as such was so 
created, and that the ordinary government of God continues 
so to control the moral agents thus created as to make all 
their actions the result of His permissive if not His directive 
power. The other class holds that moral agency is endowed 
with the absolute power of choice as an essential element in 
its existence ; that not only is temptation necessary to such 
agency, but that actual sin is so, and that, therefore, sin 
is the act of the creature alone, over which the Creator 
has no control. The first view has been maintained by 
Augustin, by Calvin, by Leibnitz, by Pascal, by Jonathan 
Edwards, and, to a modified extent, by Chalmers and 
McCosh ; the second by Samuel Clarke, by John Young,* 

* The Mystery of Evil and Good, by John Young, LL.D. ; Phil. 1856. 



168 NECESSITARIANISM: §H3 

and in our own country, of late days, by Mr. Bledsoe,* by 
Dr. Bushnell,f and incidentally by Dr. Hickok.J 

§ 113. a 3 . Necessitarian view. 

Of the writers who maintained the first of these theo- 
ries, there is one who has obtained an eminence which justi- 
fies us in treating him, if not as the type, at least as the re- 
presentative of the large, and, in some respects, not very 
harmonious school who have arrived at the same result. " The 
honor of being the most effective defender of Christianity," 
says Dr. Chalmers, who was in the main one of his disciples, 
" we should ascribe to Jonathan Edwards ;" and such, limit- 
ing the remark to what it was intended to apply — the 
doctrine of grace as expounded by the Calvinistic and 
Augustinian schools — has been the uniform judgment of 
those who have followed Edwards in the support of the 
same opinions. Nor is the tribute paid to the great Ameri- 
can metaphysician by his adversaries less emphatic. " His 
power of subtle argument," says Sir James Mackintosh, 
" perhaps unmatched, certainly unsurpassed among men, was 
joined, as in some of the ancient mystics, with a character 
which raised his piety to fervor." He was a "very candid 
and acute reasoner," says Dugald Stewart, who regarded 
Edwards's dogmas, both evangelical and metaphysical, with 
peculiar animosity. It cannot be out of place, therefore, to 
pause a moment to consider the solution of this great diffi- 
culty proposed by so eminent an intellect. 

* A Theodicy, etc., by A. T. Bledsoe; New York, 1854. 
f Nature and the Supernatural, as together constituting the one 
system of God, by Horace Bushnell; 1858. 

% Rational Cosmology, etc., by L. P. Hickok; 1858. 



§ 114 DEFENDED BY EDWARDS. 169 

The fundamental principle of Edwards's argument is that 
there can be no event without an adequate cause, and that 
hence there can be no independent spontaneous volition on 
the part of man. Hence it is, that instead of each moral 
agent being capable of spontaneous action, his will is under 
the control of a moral necessity which oil the one hand, is 
alleged to be subordinate to the sovereignty of God, and 
yet, on the other, to be consistent with the freedom of man. 
How this view accords with the Divine perfections is thus 
explained : — 

§ 114. " It properly belongs to the Supreme and Absolute 
Governor of the universe to order all important events with- 
in His dominion by His wisdom ; but the events in the mo- 
ral world are of the most important kind, such as the moral 
actions of intelligent creatures, and their consequences. 

" These events will be ordered by something. They will 
either be disposed by wisdom, or they will be disposed by 
chance ; that is, they will be disposed by blind and unde- 
signing causes, if that were possible, and could be called a 
disposal. Is it not better that the good and evil which happen 
in God's world, should be ordered, regulated, bounded, and 
determined by the good pleasure of an infinitely wise Being, 
who perfectly comprehends, within His understanding and 
" constant view, the universality of things in all their extent 
and duration, and sees all the influence of every event, with 
respect to every individual thing and circumstance, through- 
out the grand system, and the whole of the eternal series of 
consequences, than to leave these things to fall out by 
chance, and to be determined by those causes which have 
no understanding or aim ? Doubtless, in these important 
15 



1T0 NECESSITARIANISM : § 1 1 4 

events, there is a better and a worse, as to the time, place, 
subject, manner, and circumstances, of their coming to pass, 
with regard to their influence on the state and course of 
things. And if there be, it is certainly best that they should 
be determined to that time, place, etc., which is best; and, 
therefore, it is in its own nature fit that wisdom, and not 
chance, should order these things. So that it belongs to 
the Being who is the possessor of infinite wisdom, and 
is the creator and owner of the whole system of created 
existences, and has the care of all ; I say it belongs to Him 
to take care of this matter; and He would not do what is 
proper for Him if He should neglect it. And it is so far 
from being unholy in Him to undertake this affair, that it 
would have rather been unholy in Him to neglect it, as it 
would have been a neglecting what fitly appertains to Him ; 
and so it would have been a very unfit and unsuitable 
neglect. 

" Therefore, the sovereignty of God doubtless extends to 
this matter ; especially considering that if it should be sup- 
posed to be otherwise, and God should leave men's volitions 
and all moral events to the determination and disposing of 
blind, unmeaning causes, or they should be left to happen 
perfectly without a cause ; this would be no more consistent 
with liberty, in any notion of it, and particularly not in the 
Armenian notion of it, than if these events were subject to 
the disposal of Divine Providence, and the will of man were 
determined by Divine Wisdom, as appears by what has 
already been observed. But it is evident that such a pro- 
vidential disposing and determining men's moral actions, 
though it infers a moral necessity of those actions, yet it 






§ 114 DEFENDED BY EDWARDS. ltl 

does not in the least infringe the real liberty of mankind, — 
the only liberty that common sense teaches to be necessary 
to moral agency, which, as has been demonstrated, is not 
inconsistent with such necessity. 

" On the whole, it is manifest that God may be, in the man- 
ner which has been described, the orderer and disposer of 
that event, which, in the inherent subject and agent, is moral 
evil ; and yet, His so doing may be no moral evil. He may 
will the disposal of such an event, and its coming to pass 
for good ends, and His will not be an immoral or sinful 
will, but a perfectly holy will. And He may actually, in 
His providence, so dispose and permit things, that the event 
may be certainly and infallibly connected with such disposal 
and permission, and His act therein not be an immoral or 
unholy, but a perfectly holy act. Sin may be an evil thing, 
and yet, that there should be such a disposal and permission, 
as that it should come to pass, may be a good thing. This 
is no contradiction or inconsistence. Joseph's brethren sell- 
ing him into Egypt, consider it only as it was acted by 
them, and with respect to their views and aims, which were 
evil, was a very bad thing ; but it was a good thing, as it 
was an event of God's ordering, and considered with respect 
to his views and aims, which were good. Gen. i. 20 : 'As 
for you, ye thought evil against me ; but God meant it unto 
good.' So the crucifixion of Christ, if we consider only 
those things which belong to the event as it proceeded from 
His murderers, and are comprehended within the compass of 
the affair considered as their act, their principles, disposi- 
tions, views, and aims ; so it was one of the most heinous 
things that ever was done, in many respects the most horrid 



112 NECESSITARIANISM. § H5 

of all acts ; but consider it, as it was willed and ordered by- 
God, in the extent of His designs and views, it was the most 
glorious and admirable of all events, and God's willing the 
event, was the most holy volition of God that ever was made 
known to men ; and God's act in ordering it was a divine 
act, which above all others, manifests the moral excellency 
of the Divine Being."* 

§ 115. This scheme, as it will at once be seen, lies open 
to at least two imposing objections : (a 4 ,) that it renders use- 
less all means for avoiding sin, reducing men to mere 
machines ; and (6 4 ) that by bringing the Divine Being him- 
self under the operation of necessity it destroys the Divine 
individuality altogether. These objections are stated by- 
President Edwards, with his characteristic candor, and are 
met by him with an exquisite delicacy and yet strength 
which, so far at least as the mere mechanism of logic is con- 
cerned, are probably unsurpassed. The several links of this 
subtle chain it will not be practicable at present to examine. 
It will be sufficient, briefly here to notice the main points 
made by this great reasoner in reply to the objections which 
have been just stated. 

As to the position that the scheme of necessity ren- 
ders useless all means for avoiding sin, reducing men to 
mere machines, the question is first put whether, instead of 
breaking, as is insisted, the connection between the means 
and the end, the doctrine of necessity does not knit them 
all the tighter. " My effects," says the objector, " can do no 
good, if I am under necessity." But it is because we are 

* Edwards, on Freedom of the Will, p. 1G0, \ 0, iv. 



§ 115 NECESSITARIANISM. If 3 

under moral necessity, i.e. because there is a necessary con- 
nection between effects and results, that these effects are 
successful. "Means are foregoing things, and effects are fol- 
lowing things ; and if there were no connection between 
foregoing things and following ones, there could be no con- 
nection between means and end ; and so all means would be 
wholly vain and fruitless. For it is by virtue of some con- 
nection only, that they become successful ; it is some con- 
nection observed or revealed, or otherwise known, between 
antecedent things and following ones, that is, what directs 
the choice of means. And if there were no such thing as 
an established connection, there could be no choice as to 
means ; one thing would have no more tendency to an effect 
than another ; there would be no such thing as tendency in 
the case, all those things which are successful means of other 
things, do therein prove connected antecedents of them ; 
and therefore to assert that a fixed connection between ante- 
cedents and consequents makes means vain and useless, or 
stands in the way to hinder the connection between means 
and end, is just as ridiculous as to say, that a connection 
between antecedents and consequents stand in the way to 
hinder a connection between antecedents and consequents." 
And the refusal to do an act, on account of its uselessness, 
is an admission, it is argued with great subtlety, that the 
party so refusing negatives his hypothesis by his own act. 
" If prior necessity, that determines all things, makes vain 
all actions or conclusions of ours, in order to anything 
future ; then it makes vain all conclusions of ours, in order 
to our future ease. The measure of our ease, with the time, 
manner, and every circumstance of it, is already fixed, by all- 
15* 



1?4 objections: §115 

determining necessity, as much as anything else. If he 
says within himself, 'what future happiness or misery I 
shall have, is already in effect, determined by the necessary 
cause and connection of things ; therefore I will save myself 
the trouble of labor and diligence, which cannot add to my 
determined degree of happiness or diminish my misery, but 
will take my ease, and will enjoy the comfort of sloth and 
negligence.' Such a man contradicts himself; he says the 
measure of his future happiness and misery is already fixed, 
and he will not try to diminish the one or add to the other ; 
but yet, in his very conclusions, he contradicts this ; for he 
takes up this conclusion, to add to his future happiness, by 
the ease and comfort of his negligence ; and to diminish his 
future trouble and misery by saving himself the trouble of 
using means and taking pains. In short, the principles are 
such as cannot be acted on, in any respect, consistently. n 
In meeting the remaining difficulty, that of the alleged 
annihilation of the Divine will, by subjecting it also to 
necessity, President Edwards has the assistance of Dr. 
Samuel Clarke, a conjunction which, in such questions, 
was a rare one, between the two greatest theological 
metaphysicians in the English tongue. "It might have 
been objected," says Clarke, "with more plausibleness, that 
the Supreme Cause cannot be free, because He must needs 
do always what is best in the whole. But this would not at 
all serve Spinoza's purpose ; for this is a necessity, not of 
nature and of fate, but of fitness and wisdom ; a necessity 
consistent with the greatest reason and most perfect choice. 
For the only foundation of this necessity, is such an unal- 
terable rectitude of Will and perfection of Wisdom, as makes 



§116 DEFENDED BY EDWARDS. It 5 

it impossible for a wise Being to act foolishly." And with 
this may be taken the following observations of Edwards 
himself. 

§ 116. "If God's will is steadily and surely determined in 
everything by supreme wisdom, then it is in everything neces- 
sarily determined to that which is most wise. And certainly, 
it would be a disadvantage and indignity to be otherwise. 
For if the Divine Will was not necessarily determined to 
that which in every case is wisest and best, it must be sub- 
ject to some degree of undesigning contingence ; and so in 
the same degree liable to evil. To suppose the Divine Will 
liable to be carried hither and thither at random, by the un- 
certain wind of blind contingence, which is guided by no 
wisdom, no motive, no intelligent dictate whatsoever, (if 
any such thing were possible,) would certainly argue a great 
degree of imperfection and meanness, infinitely unworthy of 
the Deity. If it be a disadvantage for the Divine Will to 
be attended with this moral necessity, then the more free 
from it, and the more left at random, the greater dignity 
and advantage. And, consequently, to be perfectly free 
. from the direction of understanding, and universally and 
entirely left to senseless, unmeaning contingence, to act ab- 
solutely at random, would be the supreme glory. It no 
more argues any dependence of God's will, that His su- 
premely wise volition is necessary, than it argues a depend- 
ence of His being that His existence is necessary. If it be 
something too low, for the Supreme Being to have His will 
determined by moral Necessity, so as necessarily, in every 
case to will in the highest degree holily and happily ; then 
why is it not also something too low for Him to have His 



1*76 necessitarianism: §1H 

existence, and the infinite perfection of His nature, and His 
infinite happiness determined by necessity ? It is no more 
to God's dishonor to be necessarily wise, than to be neces- 
sarily holy. And if neither of them be to His dishonor, 
then it is not to His dishonor necessarily to act holily and 
wisely. And if it be not dishonorable to be necessarily 
holy and wise, in the highest possible degree, no more is it 
mean and dishonorable, necessarily to act holily and wisely 
in the highest possible degree ; or, which is the same thing, 
to do that, in every case, which, above all other things, is 
wisest and best. 

" The reason why it is not dishonorable to be necessarily 
most holy, is, because holiness in itself is an excellent and 
honorable thing. For the same reason, it is no dishonor to 
be necessarily most wise, and, in every case, to act most 
wisely, or do the thing which is the wisest of all, for wisdom 
is also in itself excellent and honorable." 

§ lit. The doctrine of Necessity, as laid down by Ed- 
wards, has been not a little modified, first by Dr. Chalmers ; 
and afterwards by Dr. McCosh, who may be taken as giv- 
ing the views of the present school of Scotch orthodoxy on 
this point. According to the last writer, the older Neces- 
sitarians, including Edwards himself, erred in a too close ap- 
proach to the position that man has all his thoughts and 
feelings determined by an external cause. The true doc- 
trine, it is maintained, is that the cause of any given mental 
phenomenon, its unconditional antecedent which will always 
produce it, and without which it cannot recur, is composed 
of two things, — the immediately preceding state, and a men- 
tal power or faculty. Should the latter be held as truly 



§ 118 CHALMERS : McCOSH. 1*1*1 

the cause, then the other falls to be regarded as the circum- 
stances, in the common aphorism, that the same cause pro- 
duces the same effect in the same circumstances. In many 
cases the cause is still more complex, and embraces other 
elements, as, for instance, the previous habits of the soul ; nay, 
the very casual associations of the mind in all its previous 
history, and the forgotten incidents of childhood, may be 
swaying more or less powerfully the actual state produced 
at any given moment.* It will be seen from this that the 
doctrine of necessity, as taught by Edwards, is here opened, 
and the self-determining power of the human will let in as a 
causal element. 

§ 118. The practical conclusion deduced from this dis- 
tinction is the pushing of the doctrine of philosophical 
necessity one step farther back. The action has its cause, 
without which it cannot exist, but that cause, in whole or 
in part, is the will. This will itself is acted upon by causes, 
not sufficiently powerful, however, to destroy its freedom, 
but, at the same time, strong enough to establish between it 
and them the relation between cause and effect. On the 
one hand, man has " a power of will and self-agency ; and 
his conscience announces that he is responsible." On the 
other hand, the law of cause and effect reigns in mind as it 
reigns in matter. " We can produce the separate proofs of 
the two separate truths advocated by us ; and, when looked 
apart, these proofs are acknowledged to be irrefragable. 
Should it be demanded of us that we reconcile them, we 
answer that we are not bound to offer a positive reconcilia- 

* McCosh, on the Divine Gov., fourth Am. ed., p. 541. 



ITS LIBERT ARIANISM : § 119 

tion."* In this view, man, while in everything acting under 
the direction of the Divine Sovereignty, is at the same time, 
chargeable with his own sins. 

b 3 . Libertarian view. 

§ 119. The libertarian view, as taught by Christian theists 
of the present day, approximates so closely to those just 
stated as to leave the difference rather nominal than real. 
Taking it in reference to the origin of evil, Mr. R. A. Thomp- 
son, whose late treatise on Theism may be regarded as based 
on this special hypothesis, tells us that it consists in " laying 
it (sin) to the charge of finite wills," and by this means " re- 
conciling the prevalence of mischief with the perfections of 
the Creator, "f To an American writer, however, Mr. A. 
T. Bledsoe, we owe the broadest enunciation and the most 
systematic defence of this doctrine, so far as it may be re- 
ceived as an element in Christian theism. J' 

The main difficulty, as is stated by Mr. Bledsoe, and as is 
noticed at the commencement of this discussion, is the posi- 
tion of the atheist, that if God possessed perfect holiness 
He would prevent all moral evil, unless His power were 
limited. Now, says Mr. Bledsoe, "this influence is a false 
premise, namely, that if God is omnipotent He could easily 
prevent moral evil, and cause virtue to exist without any 
mixture of vice. This assumption has been incautiously 
conceded to the atheist by his opponent, and hence his argu- 

* McCosh, on the Divine Gov., fourth Am. ed., p. 279. See post, 
§ 243, 244, etc. 

f Thompson's Theism, book iii., chap, vi., \ 9. 

\ A Theodicy, etc., by A. T. Bledsoe, Professor in the University 
of Mississippi. New York : Carlton Philips, 1854. 



§ 120 MR. BLEDSOE lt9 

raent has not been clearly and fully refuted." The proper 
refutation of the argument, it is said, involves two assump- 
tions : "first, that it is no limitation of the Divine Omnipo- 
tence to say that it cannot work contradictions ; and, 
secondly, that if God should cause virtue to exist in the 
heart of a moral agent, He would work a contradiction." 

§ 120. The first position, that God cannot work impossi- 
bilities, may be for the present passed. The second, viz., 
that " if God should cause virtue to exist in the breast of a 
moral agent, He would work a contradiction," is thus de- 
fended : "In other words, the production of virtue by any 
extraneous agency, is one of those impossible conceits, those 
inherent absurdities, which lie quite beyond the sphere of light 
in which the Divine Omnipotence moves, and has no exist- 
ence except in the outer darkness of a lawless imagination, 
or in the dim regions of error in which the true nature of 
moral goodness has never been seen. It is absurd, we say, 
to suppose that moral agents can be governed and controlled 
in any other way than by moral means. All physical power 
is here out of the question. By physical power, in connec- 
tion with wisdom and goodness, a moral agent may be 
created and endowed with the noblest attributes. By phy- 
sical power a moral agent may be caused to glow with a 
feeling of love, and armed with an uncommon energy of 
will; but such effects, though produced by the power of 
God, are not the virtue of the moral agent in whom they 
are produced. This consists not in the possession of moral 
powers, but in the proper and obedient exercise of those 
powers. If infinite wisdom, and goodness, and power, 
should muster all the means and appliances in the universe, 



180 LIBERTARIANISM : §121 

and cause them to bear, with united energy, on a single 
mind, the effect produced, however grand and beautiful, 
would not be the virtue of the agent in whom it is produced. 
Nothing can be his virtue which is produced by an ex- 
traneous agency. This is a dictate of the universal reason 
and consciousness of mankind. It needs no metaphysical 
refinement for its support, and no scholastic jargon for its 
illustration. On this broad principle, then, which is so 
clearly deduced, not from the confined darkness of the 
schools, but the open light of nature, we intend to take our 
stand in opposition to the embattled ranks of atheism." 

This course of reasoning, as will be observed, still lies 
open to the inquiry, why, if the capacity to sin is insepara- 
ble from moral agency, did God create moral agents at all ? 
This objection Mr. Bledsoe, like his antagonists in this issue, 
very satisfactorily disposes of by recourse to the theory of 
optionism. " God did not choose," says Mr. Bledsoe, " to 
prevent sin in this way, but to create the world exactly as 
He did, though He foresaw the fall and all its consequences, 
because the highest good of the universe required the crea- 
tion of such a world." 

The objections which may be urged to this scheme may 
be classified as follows : — 

§ 121. a 4 . It still traces back sin to God. Undoubtedly 
a capacity to sin "is essential to moral agents." But does 
it follow that there must hence be actual sinning, especially 
to the extent to which it is carried among men ? While 
the capacity to sin would remain, it will surely not be denied 
that God, by an infusion of gracious affections, could have 
averted the overt act. If He could have done so, but did 



§ 122-123 OBJECTIONS. 181 

not, He becomes as much open to the charge of permitting 
sin as He is nnder the necessity hypothesis. 

§ 122. & 4 . It contemplates an abeyance in the Divine 
Poiver inconsistent with the idea of an infinite and per- 
fect Deity. It requires us to presume that the all-observant 
and managing Governor, who, it is assumed, controls the 
destinies of the myriads of animals, great and small, who 
are ranged around the great amphitheatre of nature, not 
only withdraws from man all moral influence, but delivers to 
him an independent power of volition which must enable 
the creature to control the movements of the Creator's 
realm. This, it is insisted, involves difficulties far greater 
than those of the necessity hypothesis. 
§ 123. c 4 It aggravates man's impotence. 
It requires no extensive induction to prove that men, as 
they now stand, are incompetent for the work of their own 
moral renovation. It is not merely the declaration of Scrip- 
ture, but the testimony of experience, that for this purpose 
there is needed the interposition of Divine grace. But, by 
surrounding man by a non-conducting atmosphere of moral 
agency, through which this grace does not penetrate, do we 
not expose ourselves to Coleridge's sarcasm, that while the 
doctrine of necessity is the lamb in wolf's clothing, that of 
liberty is the wolf in lamb's clothing ? 

Of these objections, the first is equally chargeable to all 
hypotheses of the origin of evil, and may, therefore, be can- 
celed altogether. The second is common to every scheme 
which recognizes moral agency. The third is, however, 
more serious, and can only be avoided by invoking the aid 
of the apparently contradictory truth of a special and con- 
16 



182 LIBERTARIANISM : §124-125 

stantly succoring Divine Sovereignty, in the same way that 
those who acknowledge such sovereignty reciprocally invoke 
the aid of free agency to meet the common consciousness of 
individual being. 

dK It is in the omission to appeal to this established though 
apparently conflicting truth, (i.e. that of Divine Sove- 
reignty,) that Mr. Bledsoe, while preserving the symmetry 
of his hypothesis, has failed to adapt it to all the exigen- 
cies of consciousness. The difficulty here is twofold. 

§ 124. a 5 . Such omission is in conflict with our own ex- 
perience as to the power of man for self-renovation. Who 
is there who cannot testify to his moral inability for this pur- 
pose, — to his attempting, for instance, to conquer some spe- 
cific evil habit — to his using whatever powers he could 
summon for this end, — and yet to his ultimately failing ? 

§ 125. 6 5 . The theory in like manner conflicts with our 
consciousness as to the existence, in part at least, of the re- 
lation of cause and effect to the actions of the human mind. 
Mr. Bledsoe, and those who agree with him in the advocacy 
of a systematic and absolute libertarianism, assume the 
entire absence of causation in the human mind. Now this 
is in opposition both to consciousness and to experience. 
We are conscious of causation — e.g. the influence of others, 
early prejudices or associations — producing certain results. 
We calculate on the action of such causes on others, when 
we predict that under certain circumstances others will com- 
mit certain acts. In some cases, such as the absence of 
counteracting causes, we all must admit, there is a proba- 
bility approaching to a moral necessity of these agencies 
producing their specific effects. How then, in harmony 



§ 126 MR. YOUNG. 183 

with our own conscience, can we assert the will to act abso- 
lutely free from any superior causality ? 

To Mr. Young's exposition of the same view, marked as 
it is with singular dialectic skill and great felicity of expres- 
sion, the same objections apply though with greater force. 
To him the human judgment, throughout its whole proba- 
tion, is free from any supernatural divine causation. God 
works on man even in the office of renovation, not by mov- 
ing the will, but by illuminating the understanding. Ori- 
ginal sin is represented as " ignorance, or false views of the 
Most High."* Resurrection to life is effected by "just 
views of the Almighty." " Spiritual truth is the medium 
and even the very material of the soul's life." The ministry 
of Christ consists in "pouring a flood of light upon the 
world in which its darkness might be quenched." The 
office of the Holy Spirit consists in " pouring down the 
light of truth and the force of love, commanding all the 
appliances of infinite wisdom, infinite patience, and infinite 
power, and ceaselessly distributing, combining and modi- 
fying moral influences of all kinds, in order that at length 
man might be won bach to his Creator, to duty, to reason, 
to life" 

§ 126. It is not within the- province of the present work 
to consider how far this is consistent with Christian theo- 
logy. It is enough to say that it is in conflict both with 
psychological experience and with analogy. There are 
few who have spoken of their own religious history, who 
do not say that their will was at times acted on, not by 

* Mystery of Evil, Phil, edition of 1856, p. 316. 



184 LIBERTARIANISM : §127 

"light," — not by evidence, not by argument, — but by a 
power distinct from either, a power which was above them- 
selves, and which could not be accounted for by merely 
human and natural conditions. And the analogy with other 
decisive phenomena which operate in the formation of cha- 
racter, tends to strengthen this view. Two minds, trained 
under the same process, illuminated by the same degree of 
light, differ widely in their reception of it. With regard to 
the degree to which this light is cast, a still greater variety 
exhibits itself. The inhabitants of Central Africa in our 
own day, — those of Germany before the Christian era, — 
had no concern in selecting the points of time or of ter- 
ritory in which they were placed. Among civilized coun- 
tries even now, we unite in predicting certain phases of 
character as likely to arise from birth and involuntary edu- 
cation. We know all of us how much our own character 
and opinions have in this way been moulded. The question 
now is not whether an all-observant and humane God may not 
vary the inner light communicated by Him, and proportion 
His ultimate judgments, so as to compensate for the in- 
equalities in which His creatures were placed. But the ques- 
tion is whether those inequalities do exist so as to affect 
character. And it is submitted that consciousness and 
observation show they do. 

§ 127. Two still more recent American writers, however, 
by recognizing this element, have, with more or less quali- 
fication, pushed the libertarian hypothesis almost to the 
point where the necessitarian is left by McCosh. Dr. 
Hickok, whose profound work on "Rational Cosmology," 
places him in the front rank of modern theistical metaphy- 



§ 127 DR. HICKOK : DR. BUSHNELL. 185 

sicians, declares " the reason-idea of spiritual agency" to be 
"spontaneous activity self-directed," and announces that in 
this we have an "utterly new Mud of cause, viz., a cause 
originating or causing to be from itself, and not a cause 
conditioned or caused to cause from something back of itself. 
It is activity in liberty, which can make a beginning from 
conditions within its own being. We have in this concep- 
tion no impossibilities, nor absurdities of the last-first, in 
affirming that we may intelligently apprehend how an utterly 
new thing can absolutely begin existence. With all rational 
spirits there is such capacity of initial causality, and thus of 
all free and responsible beings, we affirm that their personal 
acts are their own origination, and can no more be trans- 
ferred to any other person than their separate identity. 
Man and angel can, in this sense, truly create. Their good 
and bad deeds are of their own origination. Whatever an- 
other agent may do in throwing his own conditions on them, 
he does not originate their acts within them But man cannot 
originate new forces, and thus man cannot create matter."* 

Here we have free agency limited by the conditions which 
belong to it as a spiritual as distinguished from a corporeal 
organization. In a late very striking exposition of the same 
topic, — an exposition also from the libertarian point of 
view,f — we have an additional qualification attached which 
makes moral freedom, as here defined, almost tantamount to 
philosophical necessity, as defined by McCosh. In the 
treatise now under notice, after declaring free agents to be 

* Hickok's Rational Cosmology, by L. P. Hickok; 1858, p. 99. 

f Bushnell's Nature and the Supernatural; N. Y., 1858, p. 234. 

16* 



186 ■ origin or evil: §128 

" powers," who " act as being uncaused in their action, which 
excludes any control of them by God's omnipotent force," the 
author states that in the lapsed condition in which the soul 
now finds itself, God alone can restore it to life and liberty. 
" By the freedom of the will we understand simply its free- 
dom as a volitional function ; but mere volitions, taken by 
themselves involve no capacity to regenerate or constitute a 
character. Say what we may of the will as a strictly self- 
determining power, raise what distinctions we may as re- 
gards the kinds of ability, such as natural and moral, ante- 
cedent and subsequent, we have no ability at all, of any kind, 
to regenerate our own state, or restore our own disorders." 
§ 128. c 3 . Present approximation of the two schools. 
Philosophical necessity, as now stated, consists of the Di- 
vine Sovereignty, incorporating within itself and recognizing 
as an independent power, Free Agency ; Libertarianism, of 
Free Agency, capable, within its own range of action, of 
voluntary choice, but dependent, for self-renovation, on 
Divine grace. In other words, each system consists of the 
same two great truths, apparently hostile, yet even consist- 
ent in human consciousness — God is Sovereign, the Will 
is free. If, in respect to the question of the primacy of these 
truths, there should be great diversity of opinion, — if by 
one class of thinkers the one is placed first and gazed at 
with peculiar reverence, if by another the other, — this is no 
more than we find in civil society, where the two parallel 
truths of individual liberty and governmental subjection are 
subject to the same treatment. The question is one of tem- 
f* perament. In sociology, we find on the one side, those who 
look up with peculiar reverence to the conservative power of 



§ 128 RECONCILIATION OF SCHOOLS. 181 

government, who distrust the capacity of bodies of men for 
self-government, who turn fondly to the past and sadly to 
the future ; on the other side, those who holding that true 
conservatism requires constant change in order to withstand 
the dilapidations of time, have an a priori tendency to re- 
forms, and look upon the past mainly as a platform on which 
to raise the achievements of the future. To the struggles 
of these two classes of opinion — the conservative and the 
reforming — we owe a great part of the healthy action of 
society. No man would now affirm that either class pos- 
sesses the truth solely, or that the apparently hostile truths 
of human independence and of human subordination are not 
practically recognized in political economy. Among those 
engaged in marshaling the two cardinal propositions of me- 
taphysical theology, we may look for the same diversity. 

In the present discussion, the metaphysical errors of the 
two schools have been produced very much in the same 
way as the economical errors of the two political schools 
which have been noticed. At one time the over-pressure of 
centralism requires a vigorous and unqualified assertion of 
individual liberty; at another, the over-pressure of indi- 
vidualism requires a similar assertion of the supremacy of 
the law. It has been so in the history of the necessitarian 
controversy. At a time when the Divine Supremacy was 
almost overlooked, Edwards, by his matchless logic, vindi- 
cated the causal connection of the Divine Purpose and the 
human will. Afterwards, when the danger was from the 
contrary direction, and when, under the lead of Condillac 
and Hume, there was a practical denial of the power of self- 
determination, the truth was again approached by the vin- 



188 FREEDOM AND SOVEREIGNTY: §129 

dication of that particular branch of it which was then in 
peril. To this last reaction, almost simultaneous in Eng- 
land, Scotland, and Germany, we owe the extraordinary 
logical acuteness and profound analysis with which Kant 
established the " autonomy" of the will, and its own supreme 
law-giving functions ;* with which Reid, with grave and lumi- 
nous precision, vindicated moral agency, f and with which 
Coleridge, with more comprehensiveness than either, (for he 
recognized the countervailing proposition of Divine sove- 
reignty,) brought his own lustrous rhetoric to the rescue of 
the truth then in peculiar peril. 

But from the very force of their mission, the advance- 
guard of each school erred : that of the necessitarians in 
rejecting intuition, as an original idea produced in the hu- 
man mind ; that of the libertarians in rejecting sensation 
as having a like office and power. A more liberal philoso- 
phy has told us that the two methods of reaching truth co- 
exist ; riper theology tells us that the two great truths of 
God's sovereignty and man's free agency are, in like manner, 
coexistent. 

§ 129. So far as concerns the supposed conflict of pre- 
destination with free will, the difficulties have been greatly 
lessened by modern scientific research. Geology, as the an- 
nihilator of time, and astronomy, as the annihilator of space, 
tend to relieve this position fr,om its doctrinal difficulties by 
showing that, to a Divine eye, there can be no blanks over 

* See particularly his Grundlegung zur Metaphysick der Sitten; 
Riga, 1785. 

f See his Essay on Liberty of Moral Agents, Essays, etc., No. 4, 
part iii. 



§129 HOW RECONCILED. 189 

which either predestination or retrospection can act. There 
can be no prophecy where there is no future ; there can be 
no history where there is no past. All is an immediate 
present, ranging in a concave surface before the observation 
of the Almighty, the points in it separated from each other, 
but all at the same distance from Himself. 

We have an illustration of this as to space, from the mag- 
netic telegraph. The operator at the wires no longer finds 
mountains and forests lifting themselves between himself and 
the terminus of the line, but his fingers talk through their 
dumb formula across a continent with as substantial rapidity 
as if that continent did not exist. 

But it is from astronomy that we learn most impres- 
sively the great truth that infinitude is natural and normal, 
and time and space artificial. Light, which, could it be 
reined and guided, would curve round the earth in a moment, 
— which, even when on its by-roads, makes its cross journey 
from the sun to the remotest known planets and from thence 
to the earth, in less than a day, — is yet many thousands of 
years in reaching us from those as yet unresolved nebulas 
whose elements the most space-penetrating of telescopes 
cannot do much more than suspect. These telescopes, then, 
spread before us worlds that existed before the creation of 
man. This faint suffusion on the distant skies is, as we now 
see it, coeval with those periods when only animal life issued 
over the earth's surface, or perhaps with that still more re- 
mote period when that surface was a mass of fire. It is a 
singular illustration of the inadequacy of our formulas of 
time to note even the ordinary phenomena of the heavens ; 
that not only is the star that we now see a cotemporary with 



190 PREDESTINATION: §130 

events a thousand years back, but may be at this moment ex- 
tinct. Other stars, under past astronomical observation, have, 
within a few hundred years, been annihilated ; this we now 
look upon may be but the spectre, created by the finiteness 
of our senses, of that which once was. 

§ 130. Nor does this thought strike us the less if we sup- 
pose the position reversed, and the observer to stand on one 
of these distant stars watching our own globe. Supposing 
he has a telescope of almost infinitely augmented power, 
what does he see ? Let him take one of the more remote 
of these stand-points, and the earth hurries across the range 
of his instrument with her then thin crust, at one place 
palpitating and heaving over the seething of the boiling 
rock beneath ; at another, gashed and seamed by fissures, 
through which torrents of molten basalt, porphyry, and 
granite, break upward and then fall down in blazing but 
ponderous spray ; at another, suddenly overwhelmed by some 
ocean-lake which the upheaval of new mountain ranges has 
driven from its seat. Let him pass from this desolate and 
awful scene, and station himself at a stand-point, perhaps a 
thousand years nearer, as measured by the passage of light. 
No longer the earth is covered with dark clouds, broken 
only by volcanic fires. A new and tranquil scene follows, — 
the scene of a giant though languid and otiose infancy. 
The fierce energies of all that awful subterranean laboratory, 
with its powers of earthquake and volcano, and its then un- 
conibinecl agents of fire, water, and rock, have done their 
work. The chemical as well as the mechanical transforma- 
tion is complete, and the earth now calmly sleeps prior to 
the great morning of organic creation. Yast rivers drop 



§ 131 NOT RETROSPECTIVE. 191 

lazily through continents of alluvium and drift. These club- 
masses, (SigillariaB,) in height one hundred feet, and five or 
six feet in diameter,* supply, in the concentric layers of their 
cylindrical trunks, the base of the coal strata of the future. 
Their gigantic boughs flap, over the rich soil, their awninglike 
leaves. And then, from another stand-point, a new stage of 
creation appears. The primeval faunas, corresponding, in 
their comprehensive but simple structure, with the prelimi- 
nary and typical forms of human society, first display them- 
selves to the telescopic eye. The present observer, if we 
can suppose such, may now, from one of these ranges, see 
prowling in the quiet waters the Placoids and Ganoids, who, 
in those paleozoic days, were the sole representatives of the 
vertebrate type. The cumbrous rhinoceros wallowing in the 
rich mud by the side of the lagoon ; the tortoise sprawling 
in the sunshine ; family after family of mammals, ending with 
man himself as by successive creations they appear ; each 
stand at present before these planetary observers. And, if 
light paints in those distant spheres with the same infinite 
accuracy and delicacy as it does in ours, we see, as we look 
on these remote nebulas, not merely the witnesses, but the 
representations of our cosmical history. There is no time 
in that great daguerreotype gallery of the heavens ; but 
there, as at the present, are spread the responsive paintings, 
changing as the original changed, of each period of the 
earth's creation and development. 

§ 131. To the human mind, therefore, using the aid of 

* See Professor Le Conte's Lecture on Coal, Smithsonian Institute 
Proceedings, 1857, p. 159. 



192 SOVEREIGNTY AND FREEDOM: §132 

geology and astronomy, time and space dwindle and dis- 
appear in the very proportion in which the instruments by 
which they are measured become the more perfect. To the 
Divine mind, they must cease to exist altogether. Astro- 
nomy, by showing us how the gravitation which binds to- 
gether the atoms of earth, keeps in harmony the remotest 
stars, tells us that the reins that guide us unite in that 
same great hand that orders the entire universe. Geo- 
logy takes us still farther ; for it shows not merely the unity 
of mechanism through space, but the unity of design through 
time. Time, indeed, cannot apply its notations to the con- 
templation of this immutable and supreme Governor of the 
universe. Thousands upon thousands of years back the 
geologist carries us and shows us the prior stages of a con- 
tinuous life of which we are ourselves members. In this 
continuousness there is neither break or disharmony. It 
is but the flash of a conception and the stroke of a decree 
that intervenes between the earliest and the latest geological 
eras. 

Let us remove, then, space and time from our calcula- 
tions ; let us cease to apply the measuring-rods of our own 
finite senses to the Unchangeable and the Almighty, and 
then prophecy and history, foreknowledge and retrospec- 
tion, must coalesce in immediate observation. The event 
will then be cotemporaneous with the foreordination ; it will 
be foreordained because it exists, as well as exist because it 
is foreordained. 

§ 132. d?. The mere fact of the opposition of Divine 
Sovereignty and of human reponsibility , does not justify 
the rejection of either the one or the other of these truths. 



§ 132 HOW RECONCILED. 193 

It may here be observed that philosophy as well as 
theology leads to the belief that the highest truth, to finite 
minds, is based on two subordinate propositions, each true, 
and yet apparently irreconcilable. It may be, to adopt an 
illustration already given, that the arch which unites the 
pillars is beyond the reach of the human eye, and that 
though all that we can see is the pillars themselves, distinct 
and almost defiant, yet that at a height beyond our ob- 
servation they join and harmonize. The following may be 
taken as illustrations of the existence of such hostile and 
yet at the same time necessarily reconcilable truths. 

The philologist infers, (and, on the supposition of there 
being no supernatural interference, without the possibility 
of reply,) from the diversity of languages now existing on 
the globe, the existence of the human race for hundreds of 
thousands of years. He looks at the fact that nations, from 
religious and patriotic associations, if not from literary use, 
cling to their languages with a pertinacity so great that 
during the periods of which authentic history speaks, the 
changes have been but slight ; he notices the fact that since 
the time of Alfred, through a series of extraordinary vi- 
cissitudes, nine-tenths of the words used in the English 
language have remained essentially the same ; he traces the 
similarity between the Homeric dialect and the Romaic, 
between the most ancient Latin and the most modern Ita- 
lian ; between the laws of Menu and the three thousand years' 
posterior essays of Rammohum Roy ; he reminds us that 
the farther back we go in time, as the chances of mutual 
combinations and outside influence become less, so the pro- 
It 



194 opposition of truths: §132 

cess of internal change becomes more protracted ; and from 
these facts he calls upon us to conclude that the human race, 
unless some miraculous multiplication of toDgues be sup- 
posed, must have lived during a period of which its present 
recorded history is an inconsiderable fraction. On the other 
hand, geology shows, beyond the possibility of doubt, that 
the race is of but recent origin, and this view is strengthened 
by the testimony of history and tradition. And yet these 
truths not only coexist, but find their common origin in a 
divine fiat — that of the multiplication of tongues at Babel — 
which in this special case revelation has discovered to us. 

We find another instance of opposite truths, which never- 
theless must in fact harmonize, in the phenomena of the 
centrifugal and centripetal forces. Are we in these, and 
similar cases, to hold that because we cannot reconcile, we 
must reject? Does not the presumption hold good that 
when the veil is uncovered the solution of the apparent 
contradictions will be discovered ? 

" The proposition that men are responsible for their moral 
character, taken by itself," says Dr. Hodge, " is so capable 
of demonstration, that all men do in fact believe it. Every 
man feels it to be true with regard to himself, and knows it 
to be true with regard to others. All self-condemnation 
and self-approbation rest on the consciousness of this truth. 
All our judgments regarding the moral conduct of others 
are founded on the same assumption. It is, therefore, one 
of those truths which is included in the universal conscious- 
ness of men, and has in all ages and nations been assumed 
as certain. Men cannot really doubt it, if they would. On 






§ 132 NO GROUND FOR REJECTION. 195 

the other hand, it is no less certain that our character does 
depend in a measure upon circumstances beyond our con- 
trol ; upon our original constitution, upon education, upon 
prevalent habits and opinions, upon Divine influence, etc. 
All this is proved by experience and observation. Here 
then are two facts resting on independent evidence, each 
certain, and each by itself securing general assent. Yet we 
see men constantly disposed to bring up the one against the 
other; and argue against their responsibility, because they 
are dependent, or against their dependence, because they are 
responsible. In like manner the proposition that man is a 
free agent, commands immediate and universal assent, be- 
cause it is an ultimate fact of consciousness. It can no 
more be doubted than we can doubt our own existence. 
Side by side, however, with this intimate persuasion of our 
moral liberty, lies the conviction, no less intimate, of our in- 
ability to change, by merely willing to do so, either our 
belief or our affections, for which, as before stated, every 
man knows himself to be responsible. Perhaps few men, — 
perhaps no man, — can see the harmony of these truths ; yet 
they are truths, and as such are practically acknowledged 
by all men. Again, all experience teaches us that we live 
in a world of means ; that knowledge, religion, happiness, 
are all to be sought in a certain way, and that to neglect the 
means is to lose the end. 

"It is, however, no less true that there is no necessary or 
certain connection between the means and the end ; that 
God holds the result in His own hands and decides the issues 
according to His sovereign pleasure. In all the ordinary 
affairs of life, men submit to this arrangement and do not 



196 EVIL AND TEMPTATION : § 133 

hesitate to use means, though the end is uncertain and 
beyond their control. But in religion, they think this un- 
certainty of the result a sufficient excuse for neglect."* 

With this comes the following profound thought, expressed 
by Sir W. Hamilton with the felicity and sustained by the 
power of which he is so great a master : " It will argue nothing 
against the trustworthiness of consciousness, that all or any of 
its deliverances are inexplicable — are incomprehensible ; that 
is, that we are unable to conceive through a higher notion 
how that is possible which the deliverance avouches actually 
to be. To make the comprehensibility of a datum of con- 
sciousness the criterion of its truth, would be indeed the 
climax of absurdity ; for the primary data of consciousness, 
as themselves the conditions under which all else is compre- 
hended, are necessarily themselves incomprehensible. We 
know, and can know only that they are, not how they can 

be."t 

§ 133. e ? \ Incidental moral consequences of evil. 

" De vitiis nostris scalam nobis facimus, si vitia ipsa calca- 
neus," says St. Augustine ; or, to take Mr. Longfellow's 
paraphrase, — 

Saint Augustine ! well hast thou said 

That of our vices we can frame 
A ladder, if we will but tread 

Beneath our feet each deed of shame. 

We may here find the ground-work of a peculiar com- 

* Hodge's Way of Life, p. 99. 

f Hamilton's Eeid, p. 745. See post, \ 241, etc. 






§ 133 INCIDENTAL DISCIPLINE. 191 

munioii with God ; a communion so intimate, and so hum- 
ble, as to exceed in its tender and pathetic love and its 
grand meekness even the sublimest adoration of the un- 
tempted and sinless of the angelic creation. "There is no 
temptation," says John of Wesel, one of the greatest of the 
pre-Lutheran reformers, " so great as not being tempted at 
all." In other words, there is nothing so dangerous to the 
love which is life, as that security which needs nothing to 
cling to, and which has no recollection of personal unworthi- 
ness and misery forgiven and relieved by a pity at once so 
tender and sublime. This experience of sin is a great 
teacher. One, who if he may not be cited as a Christian 
poet, may at least come before us as a sagacious and expe- 
rienced judge of our common nature, thus writes : — 

I asked the Lord that I might grow 

In faith and love and every grace ; 
Might more of His salvation know 

And seek more earnestly His face. 

1 hoped that in some favored hour 

At once He'd answer my request, 
And by His love's constraining power, 

Subdue my sins and give me rest. 

Instead of this, He made me feel 

The hidden evils of my heart ; 
And let the angry powers of hell 

Assault my soul in every part. 

"Lord, why is this?" I trembling cried, 

"Wilt Thou pursue Thy worm to death ?" 
" 'Tis in this way," the Lord replied, 
"I answer prayer for grace and faith. 

n* 



193 evil and temptation: §134-135 

" These inward trials I employ 

From self and pride to set thee free, 
And break thy schemes of earthly joy 
That thou may'st seek thy all in me." 

§ 134. And one other, who, if He did not, according even 
to modern positivism, speak divine truth, at least uttered 
words of deep wisdom, said : — 

" Simon, I have somewhat to say unto thee. And 
he saith, Master, say on. 

There was a certain creditor which had two debtors : 
the one owed five hundred pence, and the other fifty. 
And when they had nothing to pay, he frankly for- 
gave THEM BOTH. TELL ME THEREFORE, WHICH OF THEM 
WILL LOVE HIM MOST ? 

Simon answered and said, I suppose that he to whom 

HE FORGAVE MOST. AND HE SAID UNTO HIM, THOU HAST 
RIGHTLY JUDGED." 

c*. As the necessary incidents of limited creatures. 

§ 1 35. The argument in this connection may be thus stated : 
The scheme of an ascending scale of beings, each of a distant 
order and degree of power, is of all others the one most 
consistent with the general good. To such a graduated 
order of beings, metaphysical evil, at least, is essential. 
Therefore metaphysical evil is essential to the highest stand- 
ard we can propose for the general good. 

We will examine the two premises in succession. The 
scheme of an ascending scale of beings, each of a distinct 
order and degree of power, is of all others the most con- 
sistent with the general good. 

How far this scale ascends may be considered under an- 



§ 136 INCIDENTAL DISCIPLINE. 199 

other head. It is enough to say, that as it descends almost 
infinitely, and as from the lowest mollusc upward to man 
there is a gradual rise, the presumption is that this ascent 
continues. This, however, is not necessary to the strength 
of the present argument. We may suppose that the scale 
of creation terminates with man, and, even on this supposi- 
tion, draw the following inferences : — 

§ 136. a 3 . By a graduated scale there is room for the 
exercise of charity and an interchange of favors. 

Wordsworth touches very delicately on this in that fine 
passage in which he speaks of the hardness of temper of 
those who herd and browse only 

In the grove of their own kindred. 

The association merely with those who stand with us in a 
high scale of comfort hardens the heart, and, in hardening 
it, closes up many avenues of pleasure. Cicero* carries 
this to the irrational as well as the rational creation : — 
"Accedit ad non nullorum animantium, et earumrerum quas 
terras gignit, conservationem et salutem, hominum etiam 
solertia et diligentia. Nam multse et pecudes, et stirpes 
sunt, quae sine procuratione hominum ^alvse esse non pos- 
sunt." And even in the inanimate creation a similar teach- 
ing may be found. It is in the inequalities of the heavenly 
bodies that consists their harmony. The earth and its sister 
planets, inferior as they are in size and lustre, derive a com- 
fort from the sun such as perhaps its splendor may not 
enable it to impart to itself. The moon waits on the earth, 

* De Nat. Deorum, lib. ii. c. 52. 



200 METAPHYSICAL EVIL : § 13t 

ministering, as it were, to its wants, lifting up and down its 
tides so as to rinse the reedy banks of the remote river, as 
well as to agitate, and thereby refine the ocean. And, on 
the other hand, it is by these inequalities that the grander 
bodies are kept in their orbits. 

§131. K"ow, these analogies are not without value in de- 
termining the important relations of the different grades of 
rational as well as irrational creatures. " Reduce the crea- 
tion to a perfect equality," says Dr. Chauncey, (on the 
Benevolence of the Deity, p. 201,) "and all participation of 
that part of the Creator's happiness, the communication of 
good, is at once necessarily destroyed. For, where the same 
perfection and happiness, both in kind and degree, is at all 
times equally possessed by all beings, it is evident that good 
cannot possibly be communicated from one to another. And 
can it be imagined that the Deity would pitch upon a plan 
for the communication of good, which would render it im- 
practicable for any of his creatures, either to resemble Him 
in that which is His greatest glory, or to partake, in any 
measure, of that which is His greatest pleasure ? There is 
no truly benevolent mind but will readily be reconciled to a 
diversity in beings, rather than the pleasure of communi- 
cating good should be excluded from creation. And ex- 
cluded it must be, if there is not some diversity. Upon any 
other supposition, not one being in the creation could be 
the object of another's beneficence ; and, consequently, the 
noblest and most truly Divine pleasure, that which arises 
from doing good, could not have place in the whole circle of 
existing creatures. So that it is evident a diversity of beings 
is so far from being an objection against infinite benevolence 






§ 138-139 NECESSARY TO CREATED THINGS. 201 

that it really flows from it as its proper cause. There could 
not have been the manifestation of so much goodness, if 
there had not been some difference between the creatures 
brought into existence. And the least attention will ob- 
viously lead any one to determine that, if goodness may be 
the cause of any diversity at all, no stop can be made with- 
out continuing it down through all variety of orders, so long 
as the balance shall turn in favor of happiness, or, in other 
words, so long as existence can be called a good, and pro- 
nounced better than not to be." 

§ 138. 6 3 . By a graduated scale the earth will be most 
thoroughly populated, and human comfort best promoted. 

" Its different elements and different climates," says 
Mr. Fleming, in his excellent Plea for the ways of God, 
" are obviously fitted for affording the means of life and 
enjoyment to different orders of beings, and, accordingly, 
every element and every climate have their appropriate in- 
heritants. Multitudes of swift and brilliant creatures tread 
the sands of the southern zone : striped zebras and spotted 
leopards ; while the frost-bitten regions of the north are 
traversed by the dull ox and the dark wolf. Even the cold 
ice is tenanted by the shaggy bear. The horse gallops across 
the plains, while the eagle builds his nest on the crags of 
the rock ; the insect sports in the sunbeam, while the levia- 
than takes his pastime in the mighty waters." 

§ 139. Now, this view might be extended so as to intro- 
duce the human race. The restless and adventurous temper 
of the pioneer leads him to those Western forests where, 
himself passing beyond the blazed oak, he surveys, by the in- 
struments only of a hunter's instinct, the road which a com- 



202 GRADUATED BEING : § 139 

ing nation is to travel. He dies poor, and his solitary grave 
lies unmarked in the woods, but he has enjoyed a life of 
wild pleasure which he would not have exchanged for one 
on a monarch's throne, and he leaves his grave as the base 
on which civilization couches as it is about to make a new 
spring. And on each member of the procession that follows 
him, individuality sets its special stamp and gives to him its 
peculiar impulse. The brawny arm and strong nerve of one 
stations him in the blacksmith's shop, where, day after day, 
he strains and bakes himself over the anvil in an occupation 
most useful to the community, but, at the same time, very 
ungenial to those who may not be led to it by a special taste. 
An instinct for bartering and peddling drives forth another 
in the advance-guard of the same procession, and the cloth- 
ing-store opens its windows and displays its goods in the 
new-built village. So it is throughout. Were there an 
equal uniformity of taste, of means, of capacity, either the 
northern seas would not be fretted with the harpoon, or, if 
we suppose the passion to be universal, the pursuit of the 
gigantic ocean-game would engross the great mass of the 
young energies of the land. So with that remarkable me- 
chanical dexterity which, when whetted by poverty, moves, 
to take a single illustration, into the cotton field, and there, 
with a series of revolving spikes, disentangles the knotted 
fibres of the cotton-plant; then passes to the landing, and 
packs the bales on the deck of the low-pressure boat that 
disturbs the sluggish Southern stream ; then drops to the 
factor's warehouse, and calls into its aid a new class of ener- 
gies, those of ocean commerce ; then puts in motion the 
factory, with its myriads of workmen, and, at last, the sew- 



§ 140-141 NECESSARY TO SOCIETY. 203 

ing machine, which supports the solitary seamstress. With- 
out diversity of gifts, and without the inequalities of fortune, 
on the one side to supply the capital, on the other the labor, 
this great element of national prosperity and personal com- 
fort could not have existed. And the same reason applies 
to every other industrial enterprise by which the general 
good has been advanced. Inequality is the soul of enter- 
prise and the spring of prosperity; horizontal wealth and 
uniform capacity would be nothing else than unbroken 
penury. 

c 3 . By a graduated scale a stimulus is afforded for en- 
terprise and room for improvement. 

§ 140. This proposition, in its first branch, has already 
been touched upon. In its second, it is self-demonstrative. 
Perfection must necessarily be stationary. To leave room 
for progress requires imperfection. Mr. Addison, with his 
usual elegance, likens the soul, in its relation to its Creator, 
"to one of those mathematical lines that may draw nearer 
to another, for all eternity, without a possibility of touch- 
ing : and can there be a thought so transporting," he in- 
quires, "as to consider ourselves in these perpetual ap- 
proaches to Him who is not only the standard of perfection, 
but of happiness ?" 

Having now shown that an ascending scale of beings, 
each of a distinct order and degree of power, is, of all 
schemes, the most consistent with the general good, we pro- 
ceed to the minor premise, viz., that to such a scale, meta- 
physical evil, at least, is essential. 

§ 141. Take, as the lowest phase, the mere evil of inca- 
pacity. That this is an evil, — that the struggling in even a 



204 METAPHYSICAL EVIL : § 142 

single direction against an impassable barrier, — the impri- 
sonment even of one class of energies within a cell against 
whose grated windows they are ever chafing and torturing 
themselves in order to escape to the infinite beyond, — that 
these things are evils, *no one can doubt. But some limita- 
tion is essential to all created beings. For, even supposing 
the creature to have no actual corporeal or even psychical 
limit, it is inseparable from the very fact of createdness 
that there should be the moral limit of a consciousness of 
having been created, accompanied, it may be, with that op- 
pressive sense of dependence which Milton points out to us 
as the cause of the revolt of the Archangel Satan. 

Bat besides this, bounds are necessary to the existence 
of all created things. To people the world with a series of 
vagrant and penetrable spirits, each capable of occupying 
or passing through the other, with no coherence or shape, 
even if it were wise, would not be possible. For indivi- 
duality there must be shape; for shape, deprivation; to 
deprivation, metaphysical evil is an essential requisite. 

§ 142. But, it may be said, this difficulty might be obviated 
by creating only the highest of all orders of creation, and 
imparting to it the greatest degree of happiness. Now it 
has already been shown that this would not produce the 
desired end of the maximum of aggregate happiness. But 
the creation of an order such as is here spoken of is itself 
an absurdity. The pleasures of self-denial, of benevolence, 
of self-reliance, could not enter into the character of these 
desolate and unpitying inhabitants of such austere and base- 
less heights. And nothing is more limited than the very com- 
pact and unvarying mass of maximum beatitude which the 



§ 143 LOWLY HAPPINESS. 205 

hypothesis assumes. " A triangle," says Mr. Hayes, in bis 
very ingenious essay on Divine Benevolence, "may be made 
as large as you please, yet the largest possible cannot be ; 
for such a one could not be a triangle, which is a surface 
bounded with three straight lines. In like manner, we may, 
I apprehend, speak in relation to the happiness and perfec- 
tion of the universe. God may make it as happy and as perfect 
as He pleases, and may continually increase this in any pro- 
portion He thinks fit; but still, I apprehend, it is capable 
of this increase, without limits, and without end ; and that 
to suppose the greatest possible quantity of happiness or 
perfection diffused through it, is to suppose that there is a 
certain fixed and determinate quantity of happiness and 
perfection, beyond which it is impossible even for the power 
of G-od to proceed, which, I must own, seems to me absurd. 
So that to argue against the goodness of G-od because there 
is not the greatest quantity of happiness and perfection in the 
universe, is to use an argument that can have no force, since, 
if put into form, one of the premises is unintelligible." 

ds. What may to the human eye be a lower and inferior 
scale of happiness, may to a higher vision occupy a re- 
versed position. 

§ 143. " We can see," says Hugh Miller, in the last and 
most graphic of his works,* "how in the pre-Adamic ages 
higher should have succeeded lower dynasties. To be low 
was not to be immoral ; to be low was not to be guilt-stained 
and miserable. The sea-anemone on its half-tide rock, and 
the fern on its mossy hill-side, are low in their respective 

* The Testimony of the Rocks, p. 262. 
18 



206 inferiority: §144 

kingdoms ; but they are, notwithstanding, worthy, in their 
quiet, unobtrusive beauty, of the God who formed them." 
And even after the human period this truth holds good. 
The aged pauper in the work-house, who, when taunted with 
his uselessness, and asked what he was doing, replied, " only 
waiting," may in the divine scale be a happier as well as 
sublimer object than even the archangel, who, with the most 
splendid powers and the most exquisite sensibilities for de- 
light, is engaged in the active service of the Most High. 
Milton touches on this in these fine lines, — 

When I consider bow ray light is spent, 

Ere half my days, in this dark -world and wide, 
And that one talent which is death to hide, 
Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent 

To serve therewith my Maker, and present 
My true account, lest He, returning, chide ; 
" Doth God exact day-labor, light denied?" 
I fondly ask : but patience, to prevent 

That murmur, soon replies, " God doth not need 
Either man's work, or His own gifts ; who best 
Bear His mild yoke, they serve Him best : His state 

Is kingly ; thousands at his bidding speed, 
And post o'er land and ocean without rest ; 
They also serve, who only stand and wait." 

§ 144. Now even assuming that the nominally inferior 
classes, whether in the moral or physical creation, are en- 
dowed with a degree of happiness which, though lower in 
grade, is still definite and positive, are we to limit the divine 
power, and say, that after the creation of the higher and 
more perfect order, the divine energies are exhausted and 
are incapable of further creative action ? 



§ 144 NOT MISERY. 201 

To these remarks it may be added — and on this point I 
must acknowledge my indebtedness to an eminent living 
psychologist, Mr. Isaac Taylor — that in a human state 
limitation is an ingredient in a full perception of beauty. 
" The beautiful in nature seldom presents itself otherwise 
than under some conditions of imperfection and limitation. 
The flower-garden has its cankers and its blights, and its 
fading and decaying splendors. The bright landscape of 
June suggests a contrast with the rigors and discomforts of 
February. The beauty of the material world is just bright 
and fair enough to stimulate that imaginative faculty the 
creations of which could never be acclimated to earth. So 
it is that this sense, which opens to us so much of pure and 
intense enjoyment which can never be realized unless it be in 
some brighter and distant sphere. From the cottage flower- 
garden such as shows itself on a summer morning, there is 
a pathway which the imaginative man does not fail often to 
tread, leading to the unknown and infinite, even to a world 
of absolute beauty, and of beauty never to decay. 

On a path that is still more direct, the human mind finds 
its way toward the unknown and the infinite, when we stand 
in presence of those objects in nature which give rise to the 
emotions of sublimity. In front of Alpine altitudes, with 
their vast upheaved masses, commingled cloud, rock, glacier, 
cataract, there is excited not simply admiration and awe, but 
there is a feeling that these terrestrial marvels are samples 
only, shown off upon this planet in order to suggest to man 
the idea of scenes in some other world still more stupen- 
dous. If earth has its Alps, and its Andes, and its Hima- 
layas, what shall be the spectacle of awe which a world un- 
known might open to our gaze ? 



208 sorrow: §145 

Telluric catastrophes, volcanic eruptions, earthquakes, 
deluges, and whatever else combines ideas of destructive 
force with the conception of sublimity, has a further influ- 
ence in carrying the mind, if it be sensitive in this manner, 
into those abysses of imaginative terror where the unknown 
and the infinite may be conceived of as unveiling their powers 
to the utmost. 

There is yet a path which may be trod with less trepida- 
tion and with more fruit and advantage. The nocturnal 
heavens may, at first glance, seem more magnificent than 
sublime ; but undoubtedly it is sublime when, by aid of 
reason, we penetrate this magnificence and become cognizant 
of the reality beyond. Now, there is here to be noted a 
change in our modes of thought which has been long in 
progress, and which is now advancing toward its consumma- 
tion. This consummation will bring with it a consciousness 
of relationship, to the unknown and infinite of a far more 
substantial and impressive kind than hitherto has been ad- 
mitted."* 

d l . The defects and evils complained of are, in many 
cases, productive of positive good, 

a 2 . Sorroiv. 

§ 145. Longfellow gives but a sad view even of sorrow 
in the following lines : — 

The air is full of farewells to the dying, 

And mournings for the dead ; 
The heart of Rachel, for her children crying, 

Will not be comforted. 

* World of Mind, p. 316. 






§ 146 its uses. 209 

Let us be patient ! these severe afflictions 

Not from the ground arise, 
But oftentimes celestial benedictions 

Assume this dark disguise. 

We see but dimly through the mists and vapors 

Amid these earthly damps ; 
What seem to us but sad, funereal tapers 

May be heaven' 's distant lamps. 

Far different is the confidence of the Christian : — 

I know, is all the mourner saith, 
Knowledge by sorrow entereth, 
And life is perfected in death. 

§ 146. Sorrow may also be not only the guide to, but the 
test by which true religion may be discovered. It may be 
opaque enough when merely worldly comforts attempt to 
illuminate it ; but when a light from above falls on it, it not 
only receives that light itself, but, like the camera, collects 
and exhibits the truth all the more vividly from the darkness 
in which it is itself enveloped. Sorrow thus has come to 
us possessed with a wonderful gift of discrimination. The 
soul goes to the world for aid, and turns sadly away with 
her face all the darker, for there she finds no response. It is 
otherwise in religion. It is not that the religious man does 
not grieve. He does so, and all the more deeply from the 
fact that the narcotics taken by men of the world have no 
effect on him. But the very profoundness of his grief gives 
him a depth and fullness in his hope. He may be crushed 
by the death-bed of one whom he loves, but there is a grand 
18* 



210 sorrow: §146 

anthem, ringing in his ears, sung by the spirits of the de- 
parted as well as of those present in the body: I know 
that my redeemer liveth. It may be that in this we 
find a primary purpose of sorrow. And let it not be said 
that this purpose is unimportant. For, assuming that there 
be a future state, how immensely important it is that there 
should be a monitor to point out the real sanctions by which 
that state is governed. 

Sorrow, however, besides this, exercises a direct subjective 
influence on the human heart, which, in itself, is evidence of 
a Father's care. A painter, to adopt an illustration from 
another, was working at fresco on the ceiling of a lofty 
church. He was standing on a scaffolding, toward the un- 
guarded edge of which he was slowly backing, absorbed in 
perfecting the figure on which he was engaged, and uncon- 
scious of the danger he was approaching. In a moment he 
would have been dashed on the pavement below, when one 
of his companions, seeing but one way to save him, sud- 
denly threw a wet brush against the picture. The painter 
sprang forward to prevent the mischief, and, in so doing, 
saved his life. And it may be one of the chief evidences of 
the gentleness of the probationary government of God, that 
in this way, by apparently defacing an earthly image, the 
heart is turned from the idolatry of the human to the love 
of the spiritual and infinite. Nor is this all. Human affec- 
tions, e.g., those of the child to the parent, and of the parent 
to the child, are thus the instruments by which the impulses 
of true and disinterested love are called out and placed in 
training for a future more exalted sphere. They are, in this 



§ 147 ITS DISCIPLINE. 211 

sense, the trellises around which the affections are at first 
supported, until, by the Divine discipline, and by the cutting 
away of the merely earthly stay, these affections turn up- 
ward to heaven. 

§ 147. The effect on others of the discipline may also be 
taken into account. To this the grand emotion of com- 
passion is mainly due. Thus, Dr. Paley says, " One man's 
sufferings may be another man's trial. The family of a sick 
parent is a school of filial piety. The charities of domestic 
life, and not only these, but all the social virtues, are called 
out by distress. But then misery, to be the proper object 
of mitigation, or of that benevolence which endeavors to 
relieve, must be really or apparently casual. It is upon such 
sufferings alone that benevolence can operate. For, were 
there no evils in the world but what were punishments, pro- 
perly and intelligibly such, benevolence would only stand in 
the way of justice." 

And besides the refinement of human nature that is thus 
produced, it should not be forgotten that of all champions of 
the truth there is none more effective than the propagandism 
of meek and wise suffering. Conscious attempts to manage 
others, even if these attempts are successful, are but ephe- 
meral in their effects, for there is always a feeling that some 
part at least of the object of the actor is display, if not ad- 
vancement. Hence it is that even real reforms, when pressed 
by artificial agitation, move forward with so much uncertainty. 
But it is otherwise with those which are lived as well as 
preached; which are vindicated, not on the battle-field or 
in the senate-chamber, but in the lives and death of that 



212 pain: §148-149 

noble company of obscure confessors, whose office it is, on 
the sick-bed, in the hard home of poverty, under the stress 
of many afflictions, to show that beyond all the institutions 
of the statesman, is a meek and hopeful submission under 
adversity, and a calm trust in Heaven. 

b 2 . Pain. 

a 3 . It %)reserves identity. 

§ 148. The sense of pain is vested, with one or two ex- 
ceptions to be hereafter noticed, entirely in the skin. Even 
in some of apparently the most painful operations, when the 
surgeon cuts the deepest, the pain disappears after the skin 
is cut through, only to reappear when the instrument, on ex- 
tending its incision, touches the orifice from beneath. Even 
the heart, whose connection with the sensibilities is so re- 
markable that its expansion or contraction at sudden good 
or bad news often produces death, is not susceptible of ac- 
tual pain. A nobleman of the Montgomery family, we are 
told, whose chest had been so opened by a fistulous affection 
that the heart was exposed to the touch, was brought to Dr. 
Harvey for examination. The organ was found to be entirely 
insensible. " I then brought him," said this accurate ob- 
server as well as great discoverer, "to the king that he 
might behold and touch so extraordinary a thing, and that 
he might perceive, as I did, that unless we touched the outer 
skin, or when he saw our fingers in the cavity, this young 
nobleman knew not that we touched the heart." So it is 
that the brain, when in like manner exposed, may be even 
pared away without sense of pain. 

§ 149. Now, in this view let us contemplate the wisdom 
of the process by which the features which compose the 






§ 149 IT PRESERVES IDENTITY. 213 

human face are thus sealed and sheltered, In itself, this 
individualism of the countenance is an impressive proof of 
a Divine contriver and of a future destiny. When we recol- 
lect that of the millions who inhabit the face of the earth, 
no two have ever been found so exactly alike as to baffle, 
when full opportunities were given, the power of discrimi- 
nation ; when we recollect how numerous are the purposes 
which this individualism of countenance subserves, how 
without it the sanctities of home, the security of commerce, 
the peace of society would be destroyed, — we may admire 
the wisdom and the benevolence by which this most exqui- 
site of mechanisms is constructed. The design of one original 
distinctive human face, as it rises forth under the sculptor's 
chisel from the marble block, draws from us a recognition of 
the artist's genius almost in proportion as the marks of in- 
dividuality of expression are blended with the signs of 
ideal power. How much greater should be our admiration 
of the handiwork of the Great Artificer by whom this 
sculptury, not on the solid block, but on the much more 
subtle and yielding material of the face, is indefinitely mul- 
tiplied and perfected ! And there is a point in this indivi- 
duality of expression which takes us a step beyond this. It 
is as if we should enter into a large chamber where are col- 
lected an immense number of keys, each with a ward of a 
distinct pattern. We would at once draw two inferences — 
first, that of a designing and contriving cause ; and, second, 
that of a purpose, i.e. a room which each key is meant to 
open. And thus in the distinct individuality of the myriads 
of faces with whom we meet, we may recognize not only the 
divine workmanship, but the future distinct destiny of each. 



214 pain: §150-151 

" In my Father's house are many mansions." The severance 
of the mansions which these distinct individualities will 
open, — the continuance, in other words, in the next world 
of that individualism which exists here, may be drawn from 
an examination of this complex mechanism with almost as 
great certainty as may the existence of a contriving first 
cause. 

§ 150. It is in the preservation of this individuality that 
we can find a reason for the sense of pain. An injunction 
is thus laid on all attempts to alter the distinctive marks of 
the countenance. Were the face as insensible to pain, and 
as susceptible of change, as the hair and nails, the whole of 
human confidence would be destroyed. The murderer would 
go into the surgeon-artist's hands and come out a philan- 
thropist ; men would be personated by others in the fami- 
lies, in the bank, in the exchange, in the senate. Sheridan, 
when recovering from a debauch, after a late session of 
the House of Commons, when asked his name by the 
watchman by whom he was picked up, answered "Wilber- 
force." The joke, for such it was, became for a moment a 
reality, and the excellent and pure statesman whose name 
was assumed, found himself for a day or two the subject of 
quite an unusual notoriety. But what would it be if false 
personation could be so sustained by a little plastic skill as 
to baffle the perceptions of the most acute ? 

§ 151. Now how, a priori, could a means be adopted to 
preserve this individuality ? Human wisdom might suggest 
to seal it with an impenetrable cement. But Divine wisdom 
has doubled the guard. Not only is the surface so com- 
posed as to be in the highest degree unplastic, but the sense 



§ 152 IT DEFENDS LIFE. 215 

of pain is so stationed as to prevent any attempt at change 
of identity. And it is a remarkable fact, that among the 
numberless devices to which criminals have resorted to pre- 
vent detection, we do not find a case recorded where this was 
attempted by an alteration of the features. 

b s . Pain defends life. 

§ 152. Let it be suspended, and we then will be ready 
enough to admit the value of its active aid. The delicious 
lull of the sensibilities which is experienced by those who 
yield to the drowsiness produced by extreme cold, indicates 
the approach of death, because it arises from the silencing 
of those sleepless monitors by whom the gates of life are 
guarded. Several parallel cases are recorded of persons 
who have laid down to rest in cold weather on lime-kilns, 
and who, stupefied by the carbonic acid, have either been 
killed by the heat, or have had their limbs partially con- 
sumed, of which fact, however, they were not aware until 
they attempted to use them. By patients who have had 
limbs removed when under the influence of chloroform, the 
same subsequent unconsciousness is exhibited. "A man 
who had his finger torn off," we are told by Sir Charles 
Bell, "so as to hang by the tendon only, came to a pupil of 
Dr. Hunter. I shall now see, said the surgeon, whether this 
man has any sensibility in his tendon. He laid a cord along 
the finger, and blindfolding the patient, cut across the ten- 
don. Tell me, he asked, what have I cut across ? Why, 
you have cut across the cord, to be sure, was the reply. * 
Not only therefore is the action, but the location of pain, 
adjusted to warn against real danger, and then, when its 
office is completed, the watchman withdraws, inflicting no 



216 pain: §153-154 

further distress than is actually necessary to discharge his 
mission. 

§ 153. We have another illustration of the importance of 
pain, in the mischief following its suspension, in the cases of 
those paralytics in whom sensibility is lost in the numbness 
of disease, and whom, therefore, in order to prevent morti- 
fication of the flesh from the constant pressure produced by 
lying in one position, it is necessary constantly to move. 
In persons in health, nature performs the same office, at the 
promptings of pain, by those constant though unconscious 
movings by which even the deepest sleep is accompanied. 

c 3 . Pain economizes strength. 

§ 154. Fatigue, for instance, is the grand protector of the 
muscular system against premature decay. An instance has 
lately been mentioned of a chemist who, in order to perfect 
an experiment, kept himself awake and in the active exer- 
cise of his faculties for day and night during an entire week, 
but who dropped down dead at the close of this period, 
broken as it were to pieces in the same way that a spring 
breaks on which is placed a constant and unrelieved pres- 
sure. Such, to speak of the higher faculties of the mind, was 
the case with Hugh Miller, who plied a frame which in its 
earlier years was used only to physical labor, until at last, 
at the close of his final and most brilliant intellectual effort, 
the nervous system suddenly crashed.* " I have got rid of 
my headaches," said a man of eminent talents in our own 
country not long since to a very capable observer, " and I 
can now work uninterruptedly." "You have got rid of 

* See post, I 157. 



§ 155 ITS PRESERVATIVE POWERS. 21 7 

yonr safety-valves," was the reply, "and now prepare for an 
explosion. " Pain thus gnards the intellect from the inva- 
sion of excess ; and if the sentinel is drugged into silence, 
the fortress is in danger. 

§ 155. The same rule holds good with regard to the mus- 
cular powers. How vast, in the vivacity of youth, would 
be the springs, how violent the blows struck by the hands 
and feet, how protracted the exertion, were it not for this 
sense of pain that comes and says, " Stop here ; this is too 
much for your strength ; your hand or your foot will be 
crushed by that shock ; your body will be dashed to pieces 
by that fall ; your muscles will be worn out by those con- 
tinued strains!" The sense of pain acts in this way as a 
sort of subsidiary agency to keep up the integrity of the 
animal system ; and without it we would have men strewn 
along the stream of life in wrecks, — limbs crushed in, sinews 
sprung, shape deformed. And, by a singularly subtle con- 
trivance, these functions of preliminary injunction against 
waste are vested just in the authorities who can most effi- 
ciently exercise them, and are vested nowhere else. Acting, 
as this power does, through a severe and summary disci- 
pline, it is no slight proof of the Divine wisdom, that it is so 
economized as to be vested only in those organs and in those 
quarters where its action is essential. Thus the muscles and 
ligatures, so necessary to the easy working of the limbs, and 
the cushions of cartilages in which the ends of the bones 
play, communicate no pain when cut, for against an incised 
wound, so far at least as is requisite to prescribe prudence 
on the part of the patient, they are protected. But it is 
otherwise with regard to strains and concussions, against 
19 



218 pain: §156 

which the elastic skin, so sensitive to cuts, utters but slight 
protest, while they are greeted by the muscles and ligatures 
with a most clamorous outcry. The sprained foot, by which 
prudence in jumping and leaping is taught, is equally em- 
phatic with the sore cut which tells us it is necessary to be 
cautious in the use of edged tools. And both serve a still 
higher purpose in preserving the identity and individuality 
of the human frame, and in checking empirical experiments. 
Euripides tells us that the daughters of Pelias, on pre- 
scription of Medea, who undertook to cure old age, cut 
their aged father up, and put the pieces in a caldron, ex- 
pecting him thus to come out young. Had the instincts of 
pain given to Pelias himself been consulted, or had the 
head surgeon and her assistants been made the first subjects 
of the operation themselves, the experiment never would 
have proceeded. 

§ 156. The same remarkable distribution of this pre- 
cautionary police, each department of it in the location to 
which it is peculiarly adapted and nowhere else, is to be 
found in the throat and windpipe. The texture of the wind- 
pipe is insensible to cuts, against which exterior guards are 
appointed, but is keenly sensitive to the slightest speck or 
crumb that threatens to pass the orifice. Now, how are 
such invaders to be repelled ? The practical answer is to be 
found in a most ingenious system of defences by which this 
main entrance is guarded. The epiglottis acts as a trap- 
door, which lifts up during breathing, but flies immediately 
to during swallowing. Then there is an exquisite irrita- 
bility in the slit at the mouth of the windpipe, so that at 






§ 157 IT HEIGHTENS PLEASURE. 219 

the approach of the most insignificant assailant, it at once 
bristles up and slams to its door. As, however, this slip 
must open at the next breath into the lungs, it is necessary 
that a new set of guards should be set in motion, and this 
is effected by a sympathy between the upper vein of the 
windpipe and a reserve body of muscles below, who, in case 
of the invader passing the first defence, throw themselves 
into a state of vehement and clamorous resistance, of which 
the well-known convulsive windpipe cough is the outer 
manifestation. 

§ 157. d 3 . The experience of pain, to limited agents, is 
necessary to the appreciation of pleasure. 

It has been already observed how the common blessings of 
life pass by unnoticed. It is, in fact, an inseparable attri- 
bute of a limited being, that his attention, and power of 
relish and appreciation, with his other faculties, grow weaker 
in proportion to the period in which they are kept on the 
stretch, until at last they cease to exist altogether. This we 
know is the case with the eye, in which, if turned to a 
specific object for any length of time, the power of vision 
relaxes and is gradually dissipated. We have still more re- 
markable illustrations of this in the intellectual and nervous 
powers. Unintermitted attention to any specific object, — 
suppose it be a chemical experiment, as in a case already 
mentioned, if it does not result in a torpor of the particular 
faculties exercised, is apt to produce general insanity. From 
this we may infer the principle that to enable the perception 
to continue acute and vigorous, its forces must be periodi- 
cally recalled to receive their tone either in a period of tor- 



220 pain : § 158 

por and inaction or through a positive corrective discipline.* 
Now, both these methods are adopted. Sleep comes with 
its torpor; dreams with their relaxation, when the traces 
are unhitched, and the faculties are permitted to wander 
purposeless over the great commons of speculation ; and 
reverie, where the same faculties are let loose with equal 
freedom from immediate restraint, but still in a specially 
assigned field. Then, as a disciplinary adjunct, comes pain, 
a part of whose purposes in this respect have already been 
noticed. Rest, in fact, seems to answer the purpose of re- 
cuperating the powers ; pain, that of refining and invigor- 
ating them. The one may be compared to the sunlight and 
the dew when acting on the plant ; the other to the skill of 
the gardener, which deepens the crimson of the rose, mottles 
its damask, and almost indefinitely multiplies its petals ; 
which grafts on the hardy stock of the coarser stem the deli- 
cate stock of the weaker, and thus unites the strength of 
the one with the perfectness in quality of the other, until, 
from the hard and sour wild fruit, come the apple in its fullest 
and most golden luxuriance, and the peach in its richest and 
most luscious blush. If we look, in fact, at the finest de- 
velopments of human genius, we shall find that they have 
been accompanied, in most instances, by some physical 
deformity or more than usual proportion of pain : Milton 
and Homer (if Pausanias be correct) by blindness ; Scott 
and Byron by lameness ; Chatham by gout. 

§ 158. Even still more remarkable are the physiological 
alleviations of pain, some of which are thus strikingly ex- 

* See ante, 2> 154. 






§ 158 ITS ALLEVIATIONS. 221 

hibited by Paley, in a chapter which is not diminished in 
interest by the fact that it was written during an acute dis- 
ease which afterwards proved fatal : — " It is seldom both 
violent and long-continued : and its pauses and intermissions 
become positive pleasures. It has the power of shedding a 
satisfaction over intervals of ease, which, I believe, few enjoy- 
ments exceed. A man resting from a fit of the stone or 
gout, is, for the time, in possession of feelings which undis- 
turbed health cannot impart. They may be clearly bought, 
but still they are to be set against the price. And, indeed, 
it depends upon the duration and urgency of the pain whe- 
ther they be dearly bought or not, I am far from being 
sure that a man is not a gainer by suffering a moderate in- 
terruption of bodily ease for a couple of hours out of the 
four-and-twenty. Two very common observations favor this 
opinion : one is, that remissions of pain call forth, from 
those who experience them, stronger expressions of satisfac- 
tion and of gratitude toward both the Author and the in- 
struments of their relief, than are excited by advantages of 
any other kind : the second is, that the spirits of sick men 
do not sink in proportion to the acuteness of their suffer- 
ings, but rather appear to be roused and supported, not by 
pain, but by the high degree of comfort which they derive 
from its cessation, or even its subsidency, whenever that 
occurs : and which they taste with a relish that diffuses some 
portion of mental complacency over the whole of that mixed 
state of sensations in which disease has placed them."* 

* Nat. Theol., chap. xxvi. 
19* 



222 death: §159 

c 2 . Death. 

a 3 . In its existence * 

§ 159. Death is necessary to probation. Let us look, for a 
moment, at the difficulties which would arise from a perpe- 
tuity of life. Let us notice, in the first place, the repug- 
nancy of such perpetuity to anything like a beneficent dis- 
tribution of property. As it is, history tells us how injuri- 
ously society has been affected by the attempt to establish an 
accumulating fund for even a limited period of time. The 
Thelluson case is an illustration of this. The testator left 
a will providing that his large personal estate should be 
vested in trustees with directions to accumulate the fund 
for a hundred years. It was soon found that this would ab- 
sorb all the floating capital of England. No step remained 
but to break the will, and this was effected by a decision of 
the House of Lords, which, though necessary, was clearly 
unconstitutional. A statute was subsequently passed to de- 
clare all such trusts void, ab initio. 

Suppose that such a capitalist as Girard should live for- 
ever. If the division of talents and tastes continue as at 
present, in which such a man as himself, amid all the varie- 
ties of parsimony and avarice on the one side, and of pro- 
fuseness and thriftlessness on the other, would stand pre- 
eminent for his acquisitive and retentive powers, what a 
scene would the world present, when such a genius, so in- 
tense, so capable, and so persistent, would be forever eating 
into the very vitals of others and gorging with them its 

* A portion of the remarks under this head was published by me 
in the Episcopal Review for July, 1858. 



§ 160 its purposes. 223 

already mammoth frame ! Only one of two alternatives 
would exist : one would be a series of violent proscriptive 
confiscations, which would drive the capitalist in howling 
rage before the face of a flock of prodigal pursuers, the very 
necessities of whose character would soon again place them 
at the feet of a foe made still more rapacious and remorseless 
by the maltreatment he had received. 

§ 160. Suppose, however, that the other alternative be 
good, and that the man of wealth be permitted to go on and 
accumulate indefinitely, as would be the case in a well- 
ordered government in our own time. Soon all small proper- 
ties would be absorbed in his immense estate. His rents, we 
will suppose, would amount to a million of dollars in one year. 
He cannot spend this amount, and he turns it, therefore, to 
the purchase of new land, with a freshly augmented rental. 
Now, this can only end in the destruction of all small 
tenures, and, with them, would fall one of the most efficient 
engines we have for the welfare and comfort of society. No 
one can pass along the country road or the city street without 
seeing that to the tenant of the small farm, or of the small 
house, a much more than average amount of happiness is 
allotted. He has just the amount of comfort about him that ' 
best promotes health, without possessing that luxury which 
generates disease and languor. Labor — voluntary, and be- 
cause voluntary, sweet — sufficient to employ, but not enough 
to exhaust, is his. Hope is his. And yet this condition of 
life, so peculiarly conducive to the well-being of society, 
would be destroyed by a perpetuity of life, unless under cir- 
cumstances very different from our own. 

Let us view, however, the effect of perpetual life on the 



224 death: §161 

controversies and wars of men. Death, we cannot bnt feel, 
is a great pacificator. The sturdy Massachusetts volunteer, 
the resolute British guardsman, the reluctant Hessian, all 
lie peaceably together under the corn-fields of Monmouth. 
Napoleon, with the hatred of his intense and almost de- 
moniac ambition, Charles X., with that of his stolid and 
narrow bigotry, now lie quietly almost side by side. The 
two duelists, who glared and fired at each other across the 
table, now rest tranquilly, with their arms folded across their 
breasts, in the same grave. Death quenches many a fire 
which otherwise would have desolated the globe. Ambition, 
when confined by the conditions of mortality, may, like the 
steam-engine, traverse its appointed track usefully, if not 
innocently. But, let the trains meet, let the snorting and 
shrieking monsters dash to and fro over lines intersecting 
each other indefinitely, and dismay and ruin ensue. 

§ 161. See also what would be the condition of the 
church. At the same moment, and that moment a per- 
petuity, she would be meeting each of the several shocks 
which, in God's providence, have been heretofore distributed 
among ages. There would be the coarse abuse of Paine ; 
the sly inuendo of Gibbon ; the subtle sophism of Hume, 
armed by the imperial malignity of Julian. In meeting 
and repelling assaults so varied and so incessant, the danger 
would be that the entire spiritual character of the church 
would be lost. Fenelon, Leighton, Pascal, Martyn, would 
give place to men such as Hildebrand, as Atterbury, as 
Swift, as Bossuet, as Peter the Hermit. The saint would 
be merged in the confessor, the confessor in the crusader. 

The constant presence, in fact, either in things civil or 



§ 162 A PEACE-MAKER. 225 

things ecclesiastical, of a hateful and hating adversary, is of 
all influences the most calculated to destroy the peace and 
embitter the temper. To be conscious, even for a few days, 
of the immediate and lowering attendance of a hostile eye, 
of an eye sleepless, malign, and fierce, produces a restless 
anxiety, under which there are few who will not writhe. But 
let that eye be glaring on us ceaselessly and forever ; let its 
torn and bloody lids, Reguluslike, never close ; let such eyes 
be indefinitely multiplied, and let the object of their hate be 
placed within their concentrated focal gaze, and we ask 
whether there is any misery which would be greater than the 
mere patient endurance of such an acute and eternal watch ? 
Yet such would be the sentinels that a perpetuity of life 
would place around each of us, were the rivalries and ani- 
mosities of our nature, unchecked by death, to be permitted 
to grow and develop forever. 

§ 162. We may thus be permitted to regard death as the 
wisest and most essential of checks introduced by the Divine 
Government to preserve the harmony and equal relations of 
society. Men are in this way bound over to keep the peace ; 
and the penalty of their recognizance is their existence now 
and their happiness hereafter. The necessity for the intro- 
duction of such a change is thus displayed by a late brilliant 
writer : — " The whole earth was filled with violence ; and, 
but for a change in the method of government, this violence 
might have become, beyond measure, intolerable. In the 
new dispensation, the bow in the cloud was the sign that the 
earth should not henceforth be visited by such a catastrophe ; 
but contemporaneously with it, and in order to render such 
an interposition no longer needful, there was to be a shorten- 



226 death: §163 

ing of man's life ; and apparently, too, a greater uncertainty 
as to the time of the approach of death. Man's gigantic 
plans of wickedness were not henceforth to be arrested by 
so terrible an event as the flood ; but means, too, were taken 
to prevent their schemes from attaining so tremendous a 
magnitude. May we not discover, too, in the confusion of 
tongues at Babel, and the consequent dispersion, a special 
arrangement of Heaven for keeping the inhabitants of this 
world from combining to produce such an amount of dis- 
order and violence as would have prevented this world from 
fulfilling the ends contemplated by its Divine Governor ?" 

§ 163. Let us view the effect of such a system on the op- 
pressed. There is no wretchedness so great as that of 
satiety. The canker-worm, when it reaches the tree-top, 
drops and dies. The canker-worm of ambition does the 
same. It weeps when there are no more worlds to conquer, 
and expires in a debauch. There is no more impressive sight 
than that of desolate power looking to the grave for rest. 
For the higher the station the greater the strippedness. The 
tree that might hold its leaves almost through the winter in 
the valley, scatters them on the mountain-top at the first 
frost. There is, indeed, desolateness enough in advanced 
years without this. "It is one of the painful consequences 
of old age," said Chancellor Kent, when pronouncing a 
decree in a contested will case, "that it ceases to excite in- 
terest, and is apt to be left solitary and neglected. The 
control which the law gives to a man over the disposal of 
his property is one of the most efficient means which he has 
in a protracted life to command the attention due to his in- 
firmities." It is, therefore, not love, but money that must 



§ 163 A PEACE-MAKER. 22? 

be relied on to secure comfort in advanced years. But how 
wretched must be the heart when this conviction grows over 
it ! Need we wonder at the utter faithlessness and bitter- 
ness by which extreme and powerful old age is so often 
marked ; the corroding and corrosive suspiciousness of a 
Du Bois; the subtle treachery of an Alexander YL; the 
luxuriant cruelty of a Tiberius ? 

Of this desolating influence of an old age of power we have 
a most striking illustration in the last days of Charles Y. 
There are few men whom we would suppose more likely to 
rise above such an influence. In his youth and manhood he 
had been tolerant, if not generous. He respected Luther's 
safe conduct, though ecclesiastical authority was ready 
to pronounce it null. He granted liberty of conscience, 
under certain limits, to his Protestant subjects ; and he 
afterwards maintained these grants inviolate. He made 
war on Borne, and even took the sovereign pontiff cap- 
tive. Nor were his declining years without the softening 
influence of family affection. His two sisters, the dowager- 
queens of France and Portugal, accompanied him to his 
retirement and solaced him with their reverent love. His 
son, when accepting the crown, continued to bestow on the 
father who surrendered it to him, unabated filial affection. 
The dying emperor, also, had everything around him calcu- 
lated to impress him with a sense of the immediate responsi- 
bility of death. The Miserere of the choir in the monastery 
of St. Justus swung across the nave of the chapel into the 
communicating windows of his own chamber. His coffin 
lay open by his side-; yet, amid all these solemnizing and 
affecting associations, his mind became the more and more 



228 death: §164 

inflamed by a dark and malign bigotry. He knew not how- 
to tolerate heretics any longer. He addressed, day after 
day, letters to his daughter, the Regent, urging fire and the 
sword as the punishment of those who would deny the dog- 
mas of the Romish Church. Had he continued to have 
lived and reigned, he would have seamed the heart of Europe 
with a burning share. Well it was for the world that the 
shades of Estramaduros fell on him, and that the open coffin 
at last closed. 

But if the grave ends the turbulence of the oppressor, 
much more does it bring rest to the oppressed. 

" There the wicked cease from troubling, and there 
the weary be at rest ; there the prisoners rest to- 
gether ; they hear not the voice of the oppressor. 
The small and great are there ; and the servant 
is free from his master." 

§ 164. Death, however, does something more than close 
the wrongs of the oppressor and the sufferings of the op- 
pressed. It is, after all, the great lesson that teaches us 
the insignificance of things material and sensual. 

Mors sola fatetur 
Quantula sint hominum corpuscula. 

It is the magician who resolves the illusions of fancy and 
ambition. We may look forward to ourselves at one mo- 
ment as crowned with the poet's laurels, but in the next 
moment the laurels drop and the shroud follows. Mr. 
Pitt stands one day overwhelmed with the adulations of 
place-men and would-be place-men, and walks austerely 
through the House of Commons in all the arrogance with 



§ 165 AN OBLIVION. 229 

which his natural haughtiness led him to wield his now un- 
disputed sway. The next moment, a traveler passing by an 
almost deserted villa at Putney, enters an open door and 
sees lying unwatched on its bed the body of the just de- 
parted premier. "Worship due only to God is paid to 
Louis XY. as he totters from the scenes of his debauch to 
the bed where the smallpox is soon to seize him ! Con- 
tempt and loathing, such as would scarcely be visited on the 
meanest pauper, are his as he lies a weltering and putrid 
corpse. And even the good meet with the same oblivion. 
The right arm of Whitefield, which formed so import- 
ant an agent in his wonderful eloquence, was lately filched 
from its grave at Newburyport and carried about Europe 
as a sight. Mr. Madison's grave is distinguished only by 
an unlettered stone. That of Marion is hidden beneath 
the undisturbed moss. And who is there who passes to and 
fro in the crowd of population by the Presbyterian burying- 
ground at Princeton, that takes time to consider that there 
lie, side by side, the remains of Jonathan Edwards and Aaron 
Burr? 

§ 165. But if death be a monitor to teach us the un- 
worthiness of all things human, it is also an executioner to 
bring the probationer to account. The trial of life, when 
this dread officer of divine law arrives, is over. He who has 
been tried has had every opportunity given to him which 
Divine mercy can extend. There must be at some time a 
final account. The balance must be struck at some definite 
period, in order that the Judge may speak. Death, there- 
fore, enters into the very essence of probation. 

How far death is an element in intellectual progress, is 
20 



230 THE MANNER OF DEATH: §166 

noticed in the following striking remarks : — " Perhaps it 
may seem to some of you as a startling paradox, but it is 
nevertheless a fact, that the shortness of human life is one 
of the most powerful elements of human progress. It 
would seem as if, as the human mind grows and develops, the 
philosophy and opinions which govern the conduct of life 
continue to be modified and moulded, until about the age of 
twenty-five or thirty, when the character becomes unchange- 
able, opinions become prejudices, and the whole mind, as it 
were, petrified. Further progress would be impossible, but 
that another generation, with minds still plastic, comes for- 
ward, takes up and carries on the work a few steps, and 
becomes petrified in its turn. There are certainly some 
noble exceptions to this rule — instances of minds which with 
their maturity retain the plasticity of youth — but the very 
rarity of the exception only proves the rule."* 

b 3 . In its manner. 

a}. Its unexpectedness. 

§ 166. What would be the effect of an announcement of 
the period in which death is to occur, we may determine 
from a consideration of those cases in which such announce- 
ment was really supposed to be made. "The apprehen- 
sion," says Mr. Dendy, in his "Philosophy of Mystery," 
" of a misfortune or fatality, may prove its cause." Of this 
we have an illustration given in the case of Glaphyra, men- 
tioned by Josephus, who believing herself warned by the 
spectre of a deceased husband of approaching death, gra- 
dually, as if in obedience to the command, prepared herself 

* Report Smithsonian Institute, 1857, p. 12-4. 



§ 166 ITS UNEXPECTEDNESS. 231 

to die. Lord Lyttleton's death, now attributed to suicide 
after a similar supposed supernatural warning, brings us to 
the same conclusion. Take also the following case, which 
occurred some years ago in the neighborhood of Philadel- 
phia. The cholera was at that time raging in the city, and 
a farmer in excellent health, by way of a practical joke, was 
accosted by a series of medical students, each with the in- 
formation that he was showing symptoms of the epidemic. 
"You certainly ought to be careful." "You have the 
marks of the incipient disease." "Pardon me for inter- 
rupting you, but you ought at once to go home, and take 
immediate advice." The man went home, and was seized 
with the Asiatic cholera in its most unequivocal shape. To 
the same effect is the result of an experiment said to have 
been tried by Frederick William III. of Prussia. Six per- 
sons condemned to death were by royal permission selected 
as the objects of a medical experiment as to the contagious- 
ness of cholera. Three of them were placed in beds of 
persons who had died of the disease, but without notice of 
the fact ; three others were informed that they would be so 
exposed, but were placed in beds with no such supposed in- 
fection. Those who had warning were all attacked with 
the disease, and one of them, at least, fatally; the others 
escaped. Of a similar character are the cases, which are not 
rare, of persons who, in undergoing a mock execution, have 
really died of fright. And the only instances that Scripture 
gives us of a prophetic intimation of the time of death, are 
those of Saul and Sapphira ; and in these, the effect was in- 
stantaneous. Saul, when he heard he was to be slain in the 
approaching battle, was " sore afraid," and fell paralyzed to 



232 ignorance or future: § 16t 

the ground. And though the fate of Sapphira was the 
result of a direct divine command, yet the accompaniment of 
the mere annunciation of this command was immediate death. 

§ 167. Even were a destruction of the vital powers not to 
follow, there would be in almost every case a suspension of the 
nervous energies. Could Mr. Huskisson have seen the time 
and the circumstances of his own premature death on the 
railway, it is not likely that his powers, down to the last 
moment, would have been devoted to perfecting those bene- 
ficial schemes of economy, to one of which he fell a victim. 
The internal improvements of New York would scarcely 
have received from De Witt Clinton the powerful impulse 
that inaugurated them, had that capable and indefatigable 
statesman known that he was to be taken from the work 
almost in early manhood, — that the energies spent on it 
would, by his premature death, be unrequited, either to his 
family or himself, and that he was to be laying the corner- 
stone of those whom he regarded as his political adversaries. 
So it is in social life. The fool in the Scriptures would 
never have built his house and barn, if he had known that 
this was to be the signal of the awful message that that 
night his soul was to be demanded of him. 

Perhaps we might rise from this to a still higher induc- 
tion, and take the ground that ignorance of the future is 
essential to the healthy action of the individual man. In 
this the epicureanism of Horace unites with the asceticism 
of Milton. The one, in obedience merely to his gay yet 
shrewd love of ease, writes, — 

Tu ne qusesieris, scii'e nefas, quern milii, quern tibi 
Finem Dii dederint. 



§161 ITS ADVANTAGE. 233 

And Milton, with his grander sweep, tells us, — 

Let no man seek 
Henceforth, to be foretold what shall befall 
Him or his children ; evil, he may be sure, 
Which neither his foreknowing can prevent ; 
And he the future evil shall, as less 
In apprehension than as substance, feel 
Grievous to bear. 

On home this knowledge of the future would fall with 
a double oppressiveness. "No man can deny this who, to 
take the suggestion of a recent impressive writer,* looks 
back upon his greatest personal sorrow, and inquires what 
would have been the effect had he all along known of its 
approach. The young child, who gives so much of the 
purest peace to its parents, — what would their feelings be 
if they were to see before them, from its very birth, the 
little waxen form stretched in its early coffin ? The wife, 
whose comfort and pride it is to throw the delights of home 
around her husband, — how would her heart sink within her 
and her hand fail, if in the centre of that home in the 
decorating and refining of which for another's sake she had 
bestowed so much care, she were to see that other stretched 
on the bier, with his hands folded over his breast, and his 
face bound in the bandages of death ? Would the mansion, 
whose erection has employed so much labor or has evolved 
and perpetuated so much architectural taste, — would it have 
reared its marble front, had its owner known that the first 
pageantry it was to witness was to be that of his own death ? 

* Rev. John Caird, Sermon on Solitariness of Christ's Sufferings. 
20* 



234 death: §168-169 

Who would keep up the light of hope in the heart or the 
preparations of welcome in the home, if months or years in 
advance the wreck of the ship were seen in all its sublime 
horror ? As it is, life lifts an unpenetrable screen before 
the grave, hiding the path of approach. It is thus we have 
freedom to hope, energy to undertake, calmness to execute.* 

b\ Its shape. 

§ 168. Sudden death is in itself often a mercy. He who, 
when advised of his approaching death, turned to the wall 
and wept bitterly, saying, "I shall see man no more in the 
land of the living," recalls to us the instinctive feelings of 
our race when the probability of death is brought home to 
us at a period when the sensibilities are in health and vigor. 
Those who have witnessed the breaking, as it is called, of 
such news to persons under these circumstances, will recol- 
lect the terrible shock and the sharp recoil that follows. 
But in that Providence which regulates death as well as life 
these cases are but rare. Where sudden death does not 
come, the approach of the mortal hour is, in many cases, 
preceded by a deadening of the sensibilities ; in others by a 
sort of mist, which, like the vapor of Indian Summer, 
throws a graceful halo over the scene. And, so far as the 
mere article of death is concerned, it may be questioned 
whether the pain connected with it is, under any circum- 
stances, peculiarly great. 

§ 1G9. Those who speak of it after a resuscitation gene- 
rally concur on this point. The experience of Dr. Adam 

* See on this point, Fleming's "Plea for the Ways of God," p. 91. 



§ 170 THE MERCY OF ITS SHAPE. 235 

Clarke, one of the coolest of observers, is very remarkable on 
this point. In his life, by Dr. Lettsom, the latter thus gives 
us a sketch of a conversation in which the two were 



"Dr. Lettsom said, 'Of all that I have seen restored, or 
questioned afterwards, I never found one who had the 
smallest recollection of anything that passed, from the mo- 
ment they went under water till the time in which they were 
restored to life and thought.' Dr. Clarke answered Dr. 
L. : 'I knew a case to the contrary.' 'Did you, indeed?' 
1 Yes, Dr. L. ; and the case was my own. I was once 
drowned.' And then he related the circumstances, and, 
after a detailed account, said, 'Now, I aver, 1st. That in 
being drowned, I felt no pain. 2d. That I did not, for a 
single moment, lose my consciousness. 3d. I felt inde- 
scribably happy, and, though dead as to the total suspen- 
sion of all the functions of life, yet I felt no pain in dying ; 
and, I take for granted, from this circumstance, those who die 
by drowning feel no pain, and that probably it is the easiest 
of all deaths. 4th. That I felt no pain until once more ex- 
posed to the action of the atmospheric air, and then I felt 
great pain and anguish in returning to life, which anguish, 
had I continued under water, I should have never felt. 
5th. That animation must have been totally suspended from 
the time I must have been under water, which time might 
be, in some measure, ascertained by the distance the mare 
was from the place of my submersion, which was at least 
half a mile, and she was not, when I first observed her, 
making any speed.' " 

§ HO. Cowper, in those melancholy memoirs which bear 



23 G death: §111 

witness at once to so much misery and so much hope, speaks 
of an attempt at suicide, which was frustrated after he be- 
came insensible, in which he could not recollect any par- 
ticular pain. Lord Bacon gives us an anecdote to the same 
effect; and Sir Benjamin Brodie adds the weight of his 
great experience and eminent sagacity.* 

§ 111. Still more important than this is the gradual pre- 
paration of mind by sorrow and by old age. It is here 
that death, as well as pain, may be taken as the test by 
which the real value of religion is discovered. When death 
comes into the house purely human comforts are blasted, 
and turn with blackened face upon him who puts in them his 
trust. It is otherwise with religion, for then even the 
smoky chimney-wall becomes the panel on which are spread 
pictures which, be they myths or not, are fraught with the 
greatest loveliness and peace. It is under such influences, 
and in such scenery, that we best see the sweetness of the 
preparation by which the believer is made fit for death. Long 
illness, which, in our blindness, we cannot explain, but which 
tones the mind for the awful moment ; old age, cutting away 
cord after cord binding the present to the past ; affliction 
and sorrow, so subtly dividing the very sinews of the heart ; 
the removal of objects of love to that home above where 
the eye of the dying man sees a treasure dearer than all 
below, — these things come to take from the parting moment 
nearly all its terror. For, says Lord Bacon, "death comes 
graciously to those who sit in darkness, or lie heavily bur- 

* See ante, \ 18. 



§ 1T1 ITS MERCIES. 23T 

dened with grief and irons, — to desolate widows, pensive 
prisoners, and deposed .kings : to all such death is a re- 
deemer, and the grave a place of retirement and rest." 
Or, as the same idea is expressed by a late thoughtful 
writer : — 

I am footsore and very weary, 

But I travel to meet a friend. 
The way is long and dreary, 

But I know that it soon must end. 

He is traveling fast like the whirlwind, 

And though I creep slowly on, 
We are drawing nearer, nearer, 

And the journey is almost done ! 

Through the heat of many summers, 

Through many a spring-time rain, 
Through long autumns and weary winters 

I have hoped to meet him, in vain. 

On the day of my birth he plighted 

His kingly word to me : — 
I have seen him in dreams so often, 

That I know what his smile must be. 

I have toiled through the sunny woodland, 
Through fields that basked in the light, 

And through the lone paths in the forest 
I crept in the dead of night. 

I will not fear at his coming, 

Although I must meet him alone ; 
He will look in my eyes so gently, 

And take my hand in his own. 



233 DEATH. §112-113 

Like a dream all my toil will vanish, 

When I lay my head on his breast; 
But the journey is very weary, 

And he only can give me rest ! 

§ 112. Add to this a Christian hope, be it really true or 
be it not, — view this hope as a mere temporal alleviator, — 
and then see how still more the path brightens. And, in this 
view, take the following lines, not as Christian poetry, but 
as the type of a psychological phenomenon, and compare 
them with the expression, beautiful as that expression is, of 
merely the stoical submission which has been just described : — 

One sweetly solemn thought 

Comes to me o'er and o'er — 
I'm nearer home to-day 

Than I ever have been before. 

Nearer my Father's house, 

Where the many mansions be ; 
Nearer the great white throne, 

Nearer the jasper sea ; 

Nearer the bound of life, 

Where we lay our burdens down ; 

Nearer leaving the cross, 
Nearer gaining the crown. 

e 1 . They are the incidents of an intermediate stage 
in a series of progressive advances from chaos to final 
perfection. 

§ 113. Taking the whole scheme of geological history, 
we find that such a series of advances has been made from 
the earliest point to which that history goes back. The ad- 



§ 113 TROUBLE A PROGRESS. 239 

vance, it is true, has not been equal and regular, nor do its 
successive eras melt into each 'other as they move on, but 
rather, as in a panorama, landscape after landscape is 
separately unrolled, leaving a pause between each, so each 
of these grand periods of cosmical progress begins and 
terminates as a unit, leaving a pause to divide it from its 
successor. But while this is the case, the advance from 
period to period is unequivocal, though this advance is one 
not of development but of a specific new introduction. 
We have the period of inorganic matter. We have the 
period when a colorless and pulpy vegetation scarce laid 
claim to organic life under the mist-shroud that encompassed 
it. We have, separated from this by an appreciable paren- 
thesis, the period of rich and juicy cone-bearing ferns, and 
of the tortoises and fish-monsters which crowded the ad- 
jacent friths and lagoons. We have the period of giant 
mammalia, such as compose the dynasty now found in Ne- 
braska, hemmed in by impassable barriers at both its forma- 
tion and its extinction. Suppose, as has already been asked, 
it should be inquired for what purpose does this vast and 
luxurious vegetation of the second of these periods exist ? 
Is it not a positive excrescence, and is not the rapid suc- 
cession of animal deposit by which death manures these im- 
mense growths, in itself a defect and an evil ? Countless 
centuries afterwards, the iron forges, the coal mines, and the 
industrial interests, which time puts in "motion, answer the 
question by saying that the world is moving on in a series of 
progressive advances, each of which is the base from which 
a successor of a higher grade takes its start. Such being 
the case, and the scheme heretofore having been unbroken, 



240 TROUBLE A PROGRESS. § 1T3 

we find ourselves, in our present human history, occupying 
an intermediate stage in this grand onward progress. And 
this stage is one which involves the culture of a countless 
host of individual souls on probation for perfect bliss. It 
is, however, still an intermediate stage, and necessarily liable 
to the evils and imperfections belonging to such stage.* 

* See this point very ably developed in Mr. Walker's " God in 
Creation." And see also post, \ Til, etc. 



§114 positivism. 241 



CHAPTER II. 



POSITIVISM. 






a. In what positivism consists. 

§ 114. August Comte, to whose singleness of purpose no 
less than to whose intellectual power, the present popularity 
of Positivism is due, was born in the south of France, in 
1188. Of noble descent, though utterly penniless, he was 
thrown into the turmoil of the French Revolution at a 
period of life when his acute and refined sensibilities and his 
high love of order and classification were the most likely to 
be increased by the reaction from the tumultuous chaos with 
which he was surrounded. Disgust, which a spirit so proud 
and so severe, would feel for the multitude of merely specu- 
lative theories which then floated across the political and 
social horizon, united with a strong attachment to inductive 
philosophy, led him, at the outset of his career, to seek to 
gather from the facts of history and nature the laws by 
which history and nature are governed. To this work he 
devoted a life, which, though broken in its centre by insanity, 
and toward its end by a domestic connection as injurious to 
his mental powers by its absurd sentimentalism, as it was 
to his moral character by its impurity, was at least intel- 
lectually pure and unsordid. He died in 1858. 

The principal work through which M. Comte made known 
21 



242 positivism: §114 

his views is his " Cours de la Philosophie Positive." In 
the preparation of this work he had the advantages and dis- 
advantages attending the delivery of a course of lectures. 
He began in 1826, and his lucid style, his extraordinary 
power of classification, and his fine mathematical parts, 
secured for him the attendance of some of the most eminent 
scientific men then collected at Paris, including Blainville, 
Poisson, and Humboldt. His course was hardly opened 
before he was attacked by a disease of the brain, which for 
three years incapacitated him for work. When his lectures 
were resumed, he found his audience increased by the addi- 
tion of men such as Esquirol, Beriot, Broussais, and 
Fourier. The lecture-shape, into which his speculations 
were thrown, enabled him, as he proceeded, to avail himself 
of the counsels of others, and of the gradual development 
of his own acute and comprehensive mind. By this means 
he not only retained for a series of years the attention of 
the distinguished men by whom his lectures were attended, 
but he excited throughout all Europe that peculiar and 
curious interest which the serial form of publication is apt to 
evolve. Men of science, even among those most attached 
to orthodox Protestantism, were forward to recognize the 
wonderful combination of analysis and synthesis, and the 
severe and exact induction of the new philosopher. Sir 
David Brewster, as early as 1838, even transcended the 
limits of the present estimate of Comte's disciples, in recog- 
nizing "his simple yet powerful eloquence, his enthusiastic 
admiration of intellectual superiority, his accuracy as a 
historian, his honesty as a judge, and his absolute freedom 
from all personal and national feelings." " His views," says 



§ 175 IN WHAT IT CONSISTS. 243 

Dr. Buchanan, " are expounded in a style singularly copious, 
clear, and forcible." And Dr. McCosh, even when expos- 
ing the arrogance as well as the baselessness of Comte's 
social and theological assumptions, declares that " every one 
is constrained to admire his penetrating intellect and clear 
style." 

§ 1T5. In the loyalty and capacity of his disciples, Comte 
has been no less fortunate than in the candor of his adver- 
saries. In England, his lectures, which in French fill six 
volumes, have been brought before the public in an abridged 
edition by Miss Harriet Martineau ; and though in this 
translation he loses the freshness and naturalness incident 
to the productions of a mind that grows as it speaks, his 
text is purged of much redundancy of style, as well as from 
not a few philosophical positions which would have stood in 
the way of his acceptance.* To Mr. G. H. Lewes he is 
indebted not only for a still more condensed and more 
effective summary of his lectures, f but for a very skillful 
though incidental defence of their principles, in a work 
on the "History of Philosophy," whose speciousness and 
biographical interest will carry it to many points to which 
the severe style and the great bulk of the original course 
would keep the latter from penetrating. J In the present 

* The Positive Philosophy of Aug. Comte. Freely translated and 
condensed, by Harriet Martineau. 2 vols. London, 1853. New 
York, 1 vol., Calvin Blanehard, 1855. 

f Comte's Philosophy of the Sciences, being an Exposition of the 
Principles of the Cours de Philosophic Positive of August Comte. 
By G. H. Lewes. London, 1853. 

J The Biographical History of Philosophy, from its Origin in 



244 positivism. § 116 

year, Mr. Henry Thomas Buckle, in a work whose elaborate- 
ness and plausibility to a superficial observer conceal its 
inaccuracy of statement and narrowness of induction, has 
produced a ponderous apology for the Positive Philosophy in 
a distinct historical treatise.* And in a work destined to a 
far more lasting reputation, Mr. J. S. Mill has brought to 
the indirect though potent defence of the same system his 
fine dialectic power and his remarkable philosophical re- 
search, f 

§ 176. In this country, Comte's exponents though less 
able, have not been less numerous. In this direction, the 
late Mr. Horace Binney Wallace's acute critical, and meta- 
physical parts obliquely bore, though it is but just to say, 
with a uniform protest against those atheistic sequences 
which belong to Comte's original conception. In Mrs. 
Child's " Progress of Religious Ideas," the positive idea of 
religion is espoused with a coarseness of tone which may 
at least serve to put the careless reader on his guard against 
its essential godlessness of spirit. J To these may be added 

Greece down to the Present Day. By George Henry Lewes. New 
York: Appletons, 1857. 

* History of Civilization in England. By Henry Thomas Buckle. 
Vol i. From the second London edition, to which is added an Alpha- 
betical Index. New York: D. Appleton & Co., 1858. 

f A System of Logic, Ratiocination, and Induction, being a Con- 
nected View of the Principles of Evidence and the Methods of Scien- 
tific Investigation. By John Stuart Mill. New York: Harper & 
Brothers, 1858. 

J The Progress of Religious Ideas through Successive Ages. By 
L. Maria Child. In three volumes. New York: C. S. Francis, 1855. 



§ 1?6 COMTE AND HIS VIEWS. 245 

one or two minor publications in which the principles of the 
same philosophy are expounded if not defended.* 

Comte's speculations fall into two classes — the first com- 
prising his course of Positive Philosophy, completed by him 
in 1842; the other his scheme of religious belief, mainly 
contained in his Catechism, published ten years later. f In 
the first class his system was purely inductive, and, in one 
sense, destructive ; in the second, deductive and constructive. 
In the first he ignored all facts except those ascertained by 
natural science, and from these facts alone he sought to 
draw laws to govern not merely the material, but the spi- 
ritual. In the latter he sought to construct not merely a 
polity, but a religion ; his office was not merely that of the 
discoverer, whose duty it is to make known the secret prin- 
ciple by which our race is controlled, but that of a high 
priest, who, finding that after all there remains a vast resi- 
duum of the emotional and spiritual which a system of 
economical laws cannot regulate, seeks to establish for this 
purpose a religion. The former ignores the sentimental 
and the supernatural ; the latter not only recognizes them, 
but establishes a special mechanism by which they are to be 
fed and governed. 



* The Positive's Calendar : an Exposition of the Positive Religion 
of Comte, by one of his Followers. New York. Philosophy of 
Mathematics, etc. By W. M. Gillespie. New York, 1851. 

f Catechism Positiviste, par August Comte, etc. Paris, 1852. 
The Catechism of Positive Religion. Translated from the French of 
August Comte, by Richard Congreve, M.A. London: John Chap- 
man, 1858. 

21* 



246 comte: § 1YT 

§ I'll. As elucidating these two phases of Comte's philo- 
sophy, the remarkable circumstances of his life, falling as it 
does into two parallel periods, may be found of much value. 
His early history, and the natural reaction of his clear and 
exact intellect from the chaos of the French Revolution to 
a system of moral if not governmental absolutism, have been 
already noticed. From his eighteenth year till almost his 
forty-fifth, he was subjected to the severe discipline, and, at 
the same time, the withering blight, of circumstances not 
merely of penury, but of solitude and desolation. During 
far the greater period of the time he was engaged from six 
to eight hours a day in private tuition, from whence his in- 
come, owing perhaps to that want of flexibility of temper so 
essential to a successful teacher, was but scanty. In 1832 
he was received into the faculty of the Polytechnic School, 
but only as a tutor of the lower grade. Here again the 
jealousy of those whose scientific and metaphysical dogmas 
he so ruthlessly attacked, aided by his own intolerance, led 
to his final dismissal. Once again he was obliged to betake 
himself to teaching, though under circumstances very differ- 
ent from those by which his earlier life was surrounded. His 
growing celebrity ; the gradual recognition by the world of 
his genius ; his integrity, and his indomitable energy, drew to 
him reverent and remunerative pupils. And a very singular 
connection framed by him with Madame Clotilde de Yaux — 
a connection partly sentimental, partly sensuous — opened to 
him a field of observation before entirely unknown. This 
remarkable woman, hereafter to be the chief priestess, or 
more properly, eternal mother of positive religion, was, or 
appeared to her lover to be, possessed of all the fascinations 



§ 118 HIS HISTORY AND VIEWS. 241 

of intellect, accomplishment, and manner. Soon the severe 
philosopher began to recognize a new force which had not 
been previously noticed by him among his dynamical pheno- 
mena. The name of love might have been that to which 
this agency would, under ordinary circumstances, have been 
entitled; but Comte subtilized it into emotions more re- 
fined. The veneration due to sanctity, the regard to love- 
liness, the tenderness to the closest of domestic relations, 
increased by the obedience to arise from the succeeding rela- 
tions of child to parent, — these principles were to be apotheo- 
sized into a divine code. It so happened that Madame de 
Yaux was a Roman Catholic, so far at least as concerned a 
deep appreciation of the aesthetic and the supernatural. 
The aesthetic and the supernatural, he was, therefore, to in- 
troduce into the religion of which he was to be the founder; 
and he betook himself to construct an imposing ceremo- 
nial to touch the former, and a vast canonization to ex- 
cite the latter. How this was done will be seen hereafter ; 
but at present, it may be stated in brief, that while in the 
first period of his life his aim was to draw correct laws from 
actual phenomena ; in the second period he fabricates false 
phenomena to support a factitious law. 

§ 118. Let us now proceed to examine, at least in its 
theological relations, that scheme of positive philosophy 
which it was the business of the first part of Comte's life to 
construct, and on which his reputation mainly rests. The 
mission before him was noble, and well worthy of the years 
of poverty, of isolation, and of unremunerated toil which he 
devoted to it. It was, to give it in his own terms, to dis- 
cover and state the conditions to be developed in modern 



248 positivism: §178 

society, so as (1) to restore health ; and (2) to resolve the 
anarchy of opinion occasioning social disease. Such a task 
is well worthy the devotion of the highest intellect ; and to 
Comte, with his exquisite perception of and controlling pas- 
sion for order, passing, as he had just been, through the 
metaphysical and economical uproar of the French Revolu- 
tion, the commission came with a dignity and weight suffi- 
cient to drive from his contemplation all selfish aims. His 
it was, he believed, not only to classify science, but to recon- 
struct humanity. His it was not only to prescribe to know- 
ledge its boundaries and properties, but to open to society 
that causeway, for so long covered by the rubbish of preju- 
dice and ignorance, by which it could reach truth and light. 
And here, at the outset, he took the bold and grand posi- 
tion — afterwards, it is true, occasionally forgotten, but in the 
first half of his career always before him — that the subordi- 
nation of the intellect, and then of the heart, to the laws of 
morality, is a prerequisite of the wise reconstruction of 
society and of government. In this position his coincidence 
with the early Puritan leaders in America will at once be 
noticed. Each sought to prepare for a reanimation of 
society by the enunciation and enthronement of a code of 
moral and intellectual laws. Each thought that without 
such a basis government and society would be insecure and 
unjust. But here they differed, one failing in the recognition 
of the natural, the other of the supernatural element ; the 
one ignorant that such a code would be imperfect and arbi- 
trary without a harmonious development of that universal 
science of which it is but an incomplete part ; the other for- 
getting that even this harmonious development of all deri- 



§ 179 IN WHAT IT CONSISTS. 249 

vative knowledge is imperfect without the recognition of 
and the dependence on Him from whom this knowledge is 
derived. The one wanted breadth; the other height. Be- 
fore each lay a fierce and unfordable river, like the Niagara 
below the falls. The one failed from lack of materials to 
reach the opposite side, and from want of compass of ma- 
chinery ; the other, because he forgot that to raise a pierless 
bridge that was to be eternal, its support must be derived 
from on high. The one relied on faith alone ; the other 
only on reason ; and each have left to a more divine, and, at 
the same time, a more liberal philosophy the grand work 
by which faith and reason are to be made one. 

§ 179. It may also be premised that the term positive is 
used by Comte in a sense distinct from that accepted by 
prior philosophers. Bacon, Jonathan Edwards, and Kant, 
applied the term positive to those principles, which, un- 
derived from reasoning or . observation, form the instinctive 
and undemonstrable basis on which all derivative truth must 
rest. Our own existence — the existence of a moral sense, 
the existence of matter — have in this sense been treated as 
positive. The positive laws of Comte, on the other hand, 
are the results of inductive experiment, and positivism is 
simply a digest of knowledge derived from phenomena. 
Observational science is hence the sole source of know- 
ledge. The process is to be first one of induction, and 
then of deduction. The entire body of phenomena are to ' 
be colligated as the basis for a complete and profound induc- 
tion. From these the general principles which regulate the 
universe are to be drawn, and when drawn, are to be classi- 
fied so as to make a harmonious whole. The work thus 



250 positivism: §180 

assigned to himself by the great positive philosopher may, 
therefore, be illustrated by that of him who should under- 
take to collect from the reports of the English and Ameri- 
can courts a philosophical exposition of the common law. 
Thousands of volumes of reports are to be gathered to- 
gether, embracing hundreds of thousands of cases. From 
each the correct points are to be first extracted and then 
arranged, and then exhibited as a complete and philosophi- 
cal whole. So it was that Comte attempted to extract from 
the book of physical nature the grand common law that 
regulates humanity. 

§ 180. It is by use of this analogy that we are able to de- 
tect two of the main defects in Comte's basis of induction — 
defects which fatally affect his system of philosophy. Let 
it be supposed that in such pretended summary of the com- 
mon law there should be an entire exclusion of: (1) all cases 
involving mental conditions, e.g. insanity in its relations to 
crime, to wills, and to contracts ; and (2) all cases decided 
in a particular locality, though to this excluded locality such 
treatise afterwards is claimed to apply. However interesting 
a treatise thus constructed might be, it would neither be com- 
plete nor authoritative. And yet, these omissions are, in fact, 
made by Comte in the collection of his primary phenomena. 
He excludes entirely the result of all psychological observa- 
tion. He abhors metaphysics. That vast mass of pheno- 
mena which are connected with our intellectual and moral 
natures form no part of the materials on which his induc- 
tion acts. Objective conditions alone, he condescends to 
notice. 

On the other hand, he formally excludes from the range 



§ 180 IN WHAT IT CONSISTS. 251 

of his observation all social history except that of Europe. 
Thus he himself tells us that " we must study the develop- 
ment of the most advanced nations, not allowing our atten- 
tion to be drawn off to other centres. * * It is the selectest 
part, the vanguard of the human race that we have to study ; 
the greater part of the white race, or the European nations, 
even restricting ourselves to those of Western Europe."* 
And afterwards he specifies the countries to be thus ex- 
amined, as follows : " It must be our rule to study the civiliza- 
tion, not of any nation, however important, but of the whole 
portion of mankind involved in the movement of Western 
Europe ; that is, (specifying the nations once for all,) Italy, 
France, England, Germany, and Spain." It is observed, 
that this excludes Asia, the birth-place of civilization, 'North. 
Africa, the theatre of her most luxuriant youthful growth, 
and America, the scene of her present greatest activity. 

Having thus noticed the nature of the philosophy of 
Comte and the subject-matter from which his induction is 
drawn, let us proceed to consider what are the principles 
stated by him, so far, at least, as they concern the theistic 
argument. These principles converge to a single proposi- 
tion, viz., that the highest order of civilization, and the 
truest philosophy, lead to the establishment of a code of 
positive laws, susceptible of as definite ascertainment as 
the courses of the stars, which laws are capable, if obeyed, 
of producing the highest degree of happiness as well as 



* Pos. Phil. English ed., vol. i. p. 181 ; Am. ed., vol. i. p. 541 ; 
Martineau's translation. 



252 positivism : § 181-182 

the greatest amount of morality, and to which laws, there- 
fore, it is the duty of each individual to submit* 

b. By what it is sustained. 

§ 181. The induction by which this proposition is sought 
to be proved, falls under three heads : (a 1 ) historical, or that 
drawn from the history of the countries selected for ex- 
amination ; (b l ) personal, or that drawn from individual 
history; and (c 1 ) phrenological, or that drawn from the 
structure of the human brain. These will be now briefly 
considered. 

§ 182. a\ Historical. 

It is assumed by Comte that history, within the limits 
he prescribes to himself, shows three distinct stages of de- 
velopment : (a) the theological, which is the original, 
which is again divided into (a 1 ) fetichism, (b l ) polytheism, 
and (c 1 ) monotheism ; (b) the metaphysical, or the period 
of doubt ; and (c) the positive, or the period of definite 
law. These stages are treated by Comte substantially as 
follows : — 

The savage, who is assumed to be the first form of 

* Observe, in connection with Comte's classification, that of Schel- 
ling, as the contribution of one who, like Comte, is seeking the ma- 
terial for a skeptical philosophy, but who, with equal ability, occupies 
an independent stand-point. Schelling lays down three great periods : 
first, that of fate, when history exhibits the working of mere arbi- 
trary dynamical energy ; second, that of nature, which is one of 
equal but absolute development ; third, that of Providence, when we 
are to recognize the Absolute and Universal, as an aggregate divinity. 
See Transcend. Idealismus, part iv. prop. 4. See also Morell's Hist. 
Phil., pp. 440-450. 



§ 182 FETICH-WORSHIP. 253 

humanity, looks with wondering awe upon the objects 
around him and pays to each a specific homage. This is 
Fetich-worship. The term, not very accurately, as will be 
presently shown, is taken by Comte from Mosheim, who, when 
examining the intellectual system of Cud worth, tells us that 
"the sacred animals of the Egyptians were originally Fetissos. 
This phrase, which the French language has converted into 
Fetiches, is Portuguese, and signifies a divine agent that 
communicates oracles. A Fetich is therefore matter, in 
some form or other, in which a God resides." Strictly 
speaking, however/ the Fetich is regarded by Comte as 
worshiped, not as the embodiment of a Deity, but rather 
as in itself, from its own properties, the subject of a gross 
and dull adoration. In fact, Fetich-worship is held by 
Comte as requiring so small a degree of intelligence, that 
he announces that it is engaged in by the higher branches of 
the brute creation. " Several species of animals," he tells 
us, " afford clear evidence of speculative activity ; and those 
which are endowed with it certainly attain a kind of gross 
fetichism as man does. The difference in the case is, that 
man has ability to raise himself out of this primitive dark- 
ness, and that the brutes have not ; except some few select 
animals, in which a beginning to polytheism ma/* be ob- 
served, obtained no doubt by association with man. If, 
for instance, we exhibit a watch to a child or a savage, on 
the one hand, and a dog or a monkey, on the other, there 
will be no great difference in their way of regarding the 
new object, further than their form of expression."* And, 

* Pos. Phil., Eng. ed., vol. ii. p. 187; Am. ed., p. 546. 

22 



254 positivism : § 183 

to make this still more plain, we are told, something in the 
style of Lord Monboddo, that it was reserved to subsequent 
eras to develop men, in this light, at least, from the condi- 
tion of "monkeys." 

§ 183. If this be true, Fetich-worship, in the Positive 
sense, is nothing more than a mere stupid gaze. This is 
followed, in gradual ascent, by Polytheism, in which certain 
members or heads of specific tribes are invested with super- 
natural attributes, and worshiped as such. 

The mythology, both of the subtle Greek and the imperial 
Roman, may come next. The trees and the waters are 
represented by dryads and naiads, who are treated either as 
the divine embodiment of the entire classes, or as special 
supernatural agencies residing in individuals. With this 
may arise hero-worship ; and these two elements, involving 
the adoration either of divinities residing in matter or 
brutes, or of divinities as the shades of departed great men, 
form polytheism. This, again, as human intellect develops, 
is narrowed into monotheism. Men become weary of wor- 
shiping gods who are either the ideal representations of 
brutes or stones, or at the best, of fellow-creatures with like 
passions with themselves. Hence arises the idea of a Je- 
hovah, or supreme and single God. This idea, however, 
according to the Positive faith, is revealed neither by oracle 
nor instinct, but is a myth, for its own period beneficial 
enough, but at the same time the mere creature of human 
speculation. Soon, however, "the forces that caused this 
idea, dissipate it." Men begin to discover that organic 
creation is governed by certain eternal and inflexible laws. 
These laws enter so closely into the moral as well into the 



§ 184-185 ITS HISTORICAL BASIS. 255 

physical universe, that it is found as science progresses, that 
there is at each step less and less ground on which a volun- 
tary special Providence can act. Still, however, there is a 
reluctance to give up the sublime thought that such a Pro- 
vidence exists, and between this belief and that of the pre- 
valence of certain fixed laws — between, in other words, the 
conception of fixed laws and the conception of special pro- 
vidences — the human intellect is kept in a state of doubt and 
agitation during a period which is called the Metaphysical. 

§ 184. The metaphysical period is mainly that of destruc- 
- tion. It falls, according to Comte, into three phases : 
(1) that of Protestantism, in which the theologic element, 
itself highly charged with metaphysics, divides into a series 
of controversial currents, each surging against and neutral- 
izing the other ; (2) that of Deism, in which Nature steps 
in and takes temporarily the throne of God, while the Deity 
Himself retires in austere seclusion or good-natured indif- 
ference from the affairs of a world which, by the aid of cer- 
tain impulses with which He supplies it, succeeds pretty well 
in governing itself; and (3) that of Atheism, in which even 
the idea of a Deity on furlough is swept away, and the 
world is regarded as not only practically and temporarily, 
but eternally and primarily endued with self-government. 
By these three processes the mind is supposed to be cleared 
from all its theistic prejudices and metaphysical doubts, 
and to be prepared for the reception of the great final truth 
of the administration by Positive Law. 

§ 185. Positivism, which is declared to be the last and 
perfect development of human society, as well as the only 
true basis of individual government, contents itself with the 



256 positivism : § 185 

discovery and the harmonious arrangement of those na- 
tural laws by which the universe is governed. It rejects 
both the supernatural ordination and the metaphysical cau- 
sation of the phenomena with which it deals, but treats 
them as isolated and causeless, contenting itself, by the ap- 
plication of a wide induction, with drawing from them the 
general principles or laws by which they can be harmonized. 
As, however, this method of discovery and classification 
varies with the degree to which the phenomena with which it 
deals are extricated from the confusion of metaphysical 
doubt, and as the several classes of these phenomena differ 
greatly among themselves in reference to their capacity for 
generalization, the sciences do not arise simultaneously from 
the heterogeneous chaos of the middle period, but struggle 
upward at long though unequal intervals. First comes 
Mathematics, that with the simplest of solvents, and the 
most soluble of phenomena. Next emerges Astronomy, 
impelled by the energy of her mathematical elements, and 
hurrying to enter upon the magnificent sweep of phenomena 
on which she is to act, but delayed by the medium of astro- 
logy through which she has to pass. Mechanical and cos- 
mical philosophy comes next, and then Biology, which, 
compelled to separate from Psychology, on which she has 
heretofore, in the metaphysical era, mainly relied, now, in 
somewhat crippled isolation, crawls forth to inform us of 
the secret springs, not merely of the human body, but of the 
human soul. Last of all, but as yet with crest scarcely more 
than protruding above the mists of theological prejudice 
and metaphysical doubt, comes Sociology. To the extrica- 
tion of the latter science, the genius of Positive Philosophy 



§ 186 WHAT IT MEANS. 251 

mainly devotes itself. When this last task is consummated, 
we will obtain, we are told, the rules by adoption of which 
individual and social prosperity can be best promoted, vir- 
tue most highly exalted, vice most deeply depressed, and 
even religion, by being shorn of the supernatural and mysti- 
cal, made for the first time businesslike and intelligent. In 
what way, however, the latter part of the programme has 
been carried out, will subsequently be seen when we come 
to examine the theology of Comte as developed in his later 



Let us now proceed to consider the facts on which this 
remarkable series of theories rests, — a task that is made 
the more difficult from the fact that the positive philoso- 
phers cite no authorities for their historical statements. 

a 1 . There is no evidence of primary Fetichism. 

§ 186. Schlegel, it is true, speaks of Fetich-worship 
as the lowest stage in heathen religions,* but Fetich-wor- 
ship of the character to which he refers is very differ- 
ent from the mere monkeylike curiosity placed, by Comte 
under this name. Bat a close examination of history 
shows that the sweeping together of all sensuous reli- 
gionism under this common term, is both unphilosophical 
and inaccurate. The same year that gave to light Comte's 
complete course was marked by the publication, by Dr. Karl 
Eckerman, of the University of Gottingen, of an elaborate 
and exhaustive exposition of the religious history and my- 
thology of the most prominent nations of antiquity ; an ex- 
position, written without reference to any theological theory 

* Phil, of Hist., lect. vi. 
22* 



258 fetichism: §186 

whatever, but which presents a comprehensive and thorough 
digest of the recorded facts bearing on the particular 
issue.* 

On the point before us, Dr. Eckerman thus writes : — "We 
turn to Hylozoism. Since the Deity intermarries with Na- 
ture, divine (spiritual) and physical life are entirely identi- 
fied. Impregnation, procreation, growth, and blossom, com- 
ing into existence and dying, are regarded as the activities 
and passivities of the Deity. Nations which, of their own 
accord, and in various ways, are occupied with nature, and 
hence carry with them a sympathizing heart for it, are easily 
led to this system of religious belief. With them spring be- 
comes the time of the divine happiness ; winter the time of 
unhappiness and of death. Vivid contrasts are common in 
this system of theology, placing in opposition Life and 
Death, as in Dualism, Light and Darkness. Hylozoism is 
the mother of wild orgic dances, of cruel sacrifices, of painful 
tortures, scourgings, and mortifications. In this religion the 
images of "Begetting" and "Bringing Forth" are princi- 
pally worshiped, because the sexual relation of the animal 
world is imputed to the Deity. Hence this creed presents, 
opposing one another, a productive male and receptive 
female Deity, a Father and Mother, on which account it has 
been called, not very wisely to be sure, hylozoistic Dualism. 

* Lehrbuch der Religionsgesckichte und Mythologie der vorzug- 
lichsten Volker des Altertliums, Xach der Anordnung K. 0. Miillers. 
Fur Lelirer, Studirende, und die obersten Klassen der Gymnasien 
verfasst, von Dr. Karl Eckerman, Assessor der philos. Facultlit der 
Universitat Gottingen. Halle, 1845. Ibid., Band 3 and 4 ; Halle, 
1817, 1848. 



§ 18T eckerman's view. 259 

" This form of religion was, at an early period, received in 
the East and in the West, even in India itself, where it 
united itself with the emanation system. Babylonians, 
Assyrians, Phoenicians, Phrygians, and Egyptians, were 
servants and worshipers of nature, and it can hardly be 
denied that the worship of God among the Greeks and 
Romans may be traced back to the worship of nature, just 
as this assumed an ameliorated form. But the worship of 
Dionysos (Bacchus) has remained more barbarous and un- 
checked. On Grecian soil, more than anywhere else, Hylo- 
zoism united itself with anthrpmorphism, and hence the 
gods here appear much more human. 

" Out of Hylozoism arose, in Chaldea, Sabseanism or 
star -worship, in Egypt the worship of animals, which must 
be regarded only as specially developed phases of the same 
principle. But it is riot on that account to be supposed 
that the worship of animals was the basis of religion in 
Egypt, and still less that the adoration of animals considered 
sacred is based upon the observance of their apparent utility 
or mischievousness. The worship of animals depends much 
more upon the observation of the evident system of material 
law which these animals obey, or, in other words, on the un- 
mistakable perception of their instincts. The dweller on 
the Nile sees in this a clear expression of Divine wisdom. 

§ 18 Y. "Another modification of Hylozoism is Eetichism. 
Fetichists are those who select as a deity some peculiar or 
distinctively striking material object. Fetichism is the 
lowest grade of religious culture, and we do the Greeks 
undoubtedly great injustice if we, with Bortiger, B. Con- 
stant, {and now, also, with H. W. Bcnsen,) think to trace 



260 FETICHISM: §188 

back their worship to Fetichism. By separating individual 
examples from the whole, as the holy oak in Dodona, 
the sacred stone of Eros at Thespia, the Graces at Orcho- 
nenos, the thirty stones at Phasia, and other things of the 
kind, and examining these without reference to the connec- 
tion, a form of religion is arrived at, the existence of which 
is apocryphal even in Africa. Men, in the course of time, 
forget the Divine Spirit and the meaning of the matter 
esteemed sacred, and cling stubbornly to the dead form. But 
who has investigated so accurately the condition of religion 
in the heart of Africa ? Prejudice and pious Christian re- 
ligious zeal misled the investigators. The time will come 
when Fetichism will stand as the result of superficial 
critical observation." 

§ 188. Equally significant, as relating to the old Chaldean 
worship, is the following statement by Mr. Layard :* " As I 
have more than once had occasion to observe, a marked dis- 
tinction may be traced between the religion of the earliest 
and latest Assyrians. It is probable that corruptions gra- 
dually crept into their theology. Originally it was a pure 
Sabaeanisni, in which the heavenly bodies were worshiped as 
mere types of the power and attributes of the Supreme 
Deity. Of the great antiquity of this primitive worship 
there is abundant evidence ; and that it originated among 
the inhabitants of the Assyrian plains, we have the united 
testimony of sacred and profane history. It obtained the 
epithet of perfect, and was believed to be the most ancient 

* Nineveh and Babylon, vol. ii. p. 383. 



§ 189-190 HOW FAR IT EXISTS. 261 

religious system, having preceded even that of the Egyp- 
tians." 

§ 189. Into these questions of fact, involving though they 
do the very foundation of his system, neither Comte nor 
his disciples have thought it necessary to enter. It may be 
that, if Fetich-worship existed at all, it was an exceptional 
form, which, like what we assume the image-worship of the 
most degraded and ignorant Roman Catholic to be, was not 
an original and substantive worship, but the perversion, by 
a gradual ignoring of the spiritual, of a religious culture 
whose first object was the spiritual clothed in a material at- 
tribute or dress. If this view be correct, the whole induc- 
tion of Positivism falls. Instead, however, of examining 
the historical proof, Comte starts with the bold assertion, 
unsustained by any citations, that Fetichism was the original 
form of human religious culture. To this it may be suf- 
ficient, after the remarks which have just been made, to 
reply that history, so far as it goes, proves the contrary. 
It will be scarcely necessary to cite the traditions of a 
primeval golden age. Out of Scriptures they form the 
earliest putative records of our race. Their affirmative tes- 
timony to an early theism may be here passed. It is enough 
for the present argument to say, that whatever may be their 
worth, they give no basis for the assumption of a primary 
Fetich-worship. 

§ 190. When we come to what is undisputed history the 
indications are still more hostile to Comte's theory. Take 
the Saxon stem, one selected by Comte himself. Of the early 
Germans, Tacitus says, " Their deities were not immured 
in temples, nor represented under any kind of resemblance to 

/ 



262 FETICHISM : § 190 

the heathen form. To do either were, in their opinion, to 
derogate from the majesty of superior beings." So the laws 
of Mena — the old Indian literature — are express in recog- 
nizing a worship in which the spiritual was ever the primary 
object, nor do they in any case recognize the mere matter- 
adoration of Fetichism. The following summary of the 
early orthodox Hindu writers is given by Mr. Archer 
Butler :* "We begin with the Supreme Being. The Uttara 
Mimansa, which is to theology what the Purva Mimansa is 
to works and their merit, which is the great depository of 
the Yedantine beliefs, and whose chief extant memorial is 
the Brahme Sutra, attributed to Yyasa, (an avatara of 
Yishnou himself, the reputed author, also, of the Mahabha- 
rata, the great Hindu epic,) — this the high orthodox school 
of philosophy, declares from the Yedas themselves — of 
God — that He is the Supreme Eternal One, the Emanatory 
Cause (i.e. at once the efficient and material cause) of the 
universe. From Him all proceeds ; into Him all is to be 
ultimately resolved ; as a spider extends and retracts his 
thread, or (to use another common Hindu comparison) as 
the tortoise protrudes and then gathers back his lower limbs. 
It would not be easy to parallel the sublimity of the descrip- 
tions which the Yedas themselves contain of this All-creating 
Essence, — the whole riches of a most opulent language are 
exhausted upon the infinity of his perfections ; and the very 
title of Godhead (Bhargas) is constructed of three mono- 
syllabic verbs, which signify to shine, to delight, and to 
move. In both the Brahmin and Buddhist systems a trinity 

* Lect. Anc. Phil., vol. i. p. 250. 



§ 190 NOT PRIMEVAL. 263 

of natures is discoverable ; though upon the precise attri- 
butes of each divine personage there seem to be many- 
varieties of opinion. In the ordinary expositions of the 
Yedantine theology they are declared to be Creator, Con- 
servator, and Destroyer; among the atheistic followers of 
Capila a sort of natural trinity is professed, under the title 
of Gfoodness, Foulness, and Darkness ; and, among the 
Buddhists of Nepaul, (according to Mr. Hodgson's interest- 
ing account,) the same notion reappears under the names of 
Buddha, Dharma, and Sanga, — Intelligence, Matter, and 
Multitude. Such is the Deity of the Yedas. The Deity of the 
Sankhya of Patandjali seems to be of much the same cha- 
racter. But the ^Sankhya of Capila (to which 1 have just 
referred) denies the existence of a G-od altogether in any- 
other sense than that of an intelligence issuing out of primi- 
tive nature and to be resolved hereafter into it. These 
sages urge that we can derive no proof of a Supreme Crea- 
tor distinct from insensible nature, either from sense, reason- 
ing, or revelation. All things are evolved out of an intelli- 
gence which was itself but a secondary formation. Were 
God detached from nature He could have no inducement for 
creation ; were He fettered to nature He could have no 
ability for such a work. I need not remind you how com- 
pletely these sophisms anticipate the more modern atheism 
of Europe. Of course, you may suppose the Capilists are 
obliged to exert some ingenuity in endeavoring to reconcile 
their views with the solemn Theism of the Yedas. They 
urge that passages in these sacred records really refer either 
to a liberated soul, or to some of the mythological deities ; 
or, by some other such evasion, endeavor to escape the fate 



264 fetichism: §191 

which drove the followers of Buddha out of the Indian 
peninsula. I suspect, from scattered intimations, that, 
while the Capilists attack the foundations of religion, the 
Buddhists originally were guilty of the darker crime of at- 
tacking the authority of the priesthood, — a difference which 
will sufficiently explain the difference of their fortunes. It 
is certain that, even to the present day, a genuine Buddhist, 
from the heights of his ascetic sanctity, is apt to despise the 
inferior aids of sacerdotal ministration, and is in fact more 
highly reverenced by the people ; upon the same principle 
which gave to the mendicant saints of the Roman order an 
influence so far above that of the secular clergy. 

§ 191. " The Yedanta philosophy does not enlarge upon 
nature as distinct from its great Author. But this deficiency 
is fully supplied by the copious dissertations of the Sankhya 
and Vaiseschika physics. I before stated that the Sankhya 
Capila constitutes twenty-five principles of the universe. 
At the head of the list stands the venerated name of Nature 
or Pracriti, — eternal matter undivided, without parts, not 
produced, but productive. The next title on this solemn 
bead-roll of the universal system is Intelligence, (Buddhi or 
Mahat,) first production of nature and prolific of all subse- 
quent existence ; and for the accommodation of religious 
associates, it would seem that this very intelligence divides 
into a triune Deity ; thus conciliating (though awkwardly) 
the theistic and atheistic hypotheses. Third in the cata- 
logue, comes the Personal Conviction, (Ahancara,) a sin- 
gular element in a system of nature, but which seems to 
me to be internally connected with the theory of Illusion, 
(Maya,) which this school probably countenanced; and 



§ 192 NOT PRIMEVAL. 265 

which may seem to base physical existence itself on the 
transitory belief of it. The Capilist next enumerates five 
pure elements which themselves produce the grosser and 
perceptible elements of the external world. The organs of 
speech and motion are then named, and that Manas or 
Mind, which seems to discharge the same functions as the 
communis sensus of the old psychologists, with additional 
functions of activity. ' The external sense perceives, the 
internal examines, consciousness makes self-application, and 
intellect resolves.' Finally, is introduced that eternal essence 
which, though it may transmigrate through innumerable 
bodies, is made by wisdom capable of final liberation and 
perpetual repose, — the Purusha, or Soul. The treatise it- 
self, (the Karica,) sums up the whole : — ' Nature, root of all, 
is no production ; seven principles, including the Great In- 
tellect, are productions and productive ; sixteen are pro- 
ductions unproductive ; soul is neither production nor 
productive.'" 

§ 192. Mr. Gladstone, in his Studies on Homer, touches 
with his usual subtlety and eloquence on this point. He 
marshals the classical evidence in favor of a primeval inter- 
communion between the one great God and the human race, 
and he shows that even the Homeric theistic philosophy 
rested on this assumption. The same propositions have 
been examined, with equal skill and far greater copiousness, 
by Yossius, in his work "De Theologia Gentili," and by 
Cudworth, in his "Intellectual System of the Universe." 
The difficulty about Mr. Gladstone's view — a difficulty grow- 
ing from his tendency to persistent and earnest advocacy — 
is, that while Cudworth properly restricts himself to show- 
23 



266 fetichism: §193-194 

ing that the classic mythology (e.g. in the Homeric writ- 
ings*) recognized one single superior Deity, Mr. Gladstone 
insists upon drawing from the same data, not only the 
revealed doctrine of the Trinity, but a very questionable 
theory as to the Yirgin. There is a double difficulty in 
this. It leads sincere Christians to reject an important 
branch of theistic proof, — it tempts the critical inquirer to 
doubt the whole. 

§ 193. So also, Larcher, in a note to Herodotus, states 
that the most ancient nations were not idol-worshipers, and 
adds : Lucian tells us that the ancient Egyptians had no 
statues in the temples. According to Eusebius, the Greeks 
were not worshipers of images before the time of Cecrops, 
who first of all erected statues to Minerva. And Plutarch 
tells us that Xuma forbade the Romans to represent the 
Deity under the form of a man or an animal ; and for seventy 
years this people had not in their temple any statue or paint- 
ing of the Deity. 

§ 194. b 2 . The character of the development of our 
race affords a strong presumption against the hypothesis 
of a primary Fetich- worship. 

This worship, according to Comte, was shared by the dog 
and the monkey, with whom as to intelligence, the human 
worshiper was about on a par. But do not the facts ne- 
gative the supposition of so great an intellectual grade 
having been overcome by us as that which lies between the 
monkey and the man ? In that portion of the duration of 
man which history records — say three thousand years — we 

* See Cudworth, vol. i. p. 476, etc. 



§ 195 NOT PRIMEVAL. 261 

see no increase of the sentimental and sesthetical faculties, 
the very ones Comte relies on as the elements of religious cul- 
ture. Homer, in the vivacity of his imagination and his keen 
appreciation of and capacity for the expression of beauty; 
Phidias, in his sculpture ; the artists who reared the Pan- 
theon, and the mechanists who constructed the machinery 
by which the Pyramids were raised, — have found no supe- 
riors among their successors. So far as the intellectual 
measurement of our race is concerned, the altitude we reach 
now is about the same as that we reached at the earliest 
periods to which history goes back. It is a parallelogram 
of great length, it is true, but of equal height. Where 
then can we find the intellectual depravation assigned by the 
Positivists to primeval man ? 

§ 195. c 2 . Fetich-worship, such as it claimed to be, ex- 
ists at the present day among people with whom a poly- 
theistic or perhaps a monotheistic religion once prevailed. 

It is enough, in order to meet Comte's position, to show 
that Fetich-worship exists in the present day. That it does, 
in the true sense in which the term should be used, is not a 
matter of doubt. Nowhere, in fact, in mythological his- 
tory, do we find a sketch approximating so closely to that 
of Comte, as one lately given us by Captain Walter M. 
Gibson, whose remarkable adventures among the Dutch and 
Malays, have created so much recent interest. " I was in- 
formed," he tells us, in an address before the American 
Geographical and Statistical Society, in the City of New 
York, "by a fellow-prisoner at Welterveden, by one Cap- 
tain Yan Woorden, who had been four years commanding 
at the small post of Lahat, in the interior of Sumatra, and 



268 comte's eras: §196 

who had had frequent opportunities to observe the Orung 
Kooboos, both male and female, sit around a buluh batang, 
or species of bamboo, that attains to a great size, and 
would, all in concert, as many as could, strike their heads 
repeatedly against the trunk of the tree, and utter some 
rude, grunting ejaculations; this, he observed, took place 
whenever any one, or all the band got hurt, or received any 
special gratification, but mostly when injured. Now, it is 
well known that a large portion of the semi-civilized, semi- 
pagan Sumatrans, believe that in the enormous tufts of the 
buluh batang, as well as in the marringin-tree, there exists 
widadiri dowas and rakshashas, or good and evil super- 
natural beings ; and, what is remarkable, that throughout 
Sumatra, all the beings of their pagan mythology are of the 
feminine gender. I have heard described by their orung 
menyanyee, or pantunverse-singers, some most ravishing 
pictures of the widadiri, or good wood-nymphs of the bulah 



§ 196. But beyond this, the history of Christianity indicates 
that there exists a tendency, varying, it is true, with climate 
and political relations, to overcrust the spiritual and vital 
with the material. To show this, it is not necessary to go 
further than to refer to the processes by which the reverence 
for saints became saint-worship, by which saint-worship 
became image-worship, by which, among the more ignorant, 
image-worship has, as in certain of the nominal Roman 
Catholic provinces in South America, become scarcely dis- 
tinguishable from idolatry. Here is undoubtedly a great 
development, but it is in a direction the reverse from that 
announced by Positive Philosophy. So it has been with 



§197 HOW FAR ERRONEOUS. 269 

Judaism. " The Jews," says an acute observer, "corrupted 
their pure monotheistic truths into what these writers (the 
followers of Comte) believe the fables, legends, miracles, and 
absurd dogmas of the Old Testament ; and as if that were 
not enough, proceeded to bury them in the huge absurdities 
of the Rabbinical traditions."* Such is the view taken 
from the stand-point of Positivism. Yiew the Jewish his- 
tory from the stand-point of Christianity, as we are now 
entitled to do, and the retrograde movement from the pure 
Theism of the Old Testament, to a sensuous symbolism, 
from obedience to the decrees of God to submission to the 
commentaries of man, is equally manifest, f 

§ 19*7. d 2 . The three stages of Theology, Metaphysics, 
and Positivism are often coincident. 

Nowhere is this more evident than in the present century 
and in the very countries which Comte has selected as the 
basis of his induction. Side by side we have Positivism, 
Metaphysics, and Theology, each struggling with an energy 
which would be strangely out of place in systems which suc- 
ceed each other in a definite line of descent. The positive 
philosophers find the supposed predecessor, to whose funeral 
they so confidently issued invitations, arising from his grave, 
and contemptuously driving the intruders from the coveted 
domain. The profound research and the acute analysis of 

* Eclipse of Faith, p. 144. 

f Observe Coleridge's antithesis of the Quaker and the Romish 
doctrines of the sacrament: — "The one evaporated it into a myth; 
the other consolidated it into an idol.'' Here, in the latter alternative, 
God gives man a spiritual religion, which man carnalizes. The "de- 
velopment" is not from matter to spirit, but from spirit to matter. 
23* 



270 theology: §191 

Agassiz on the one side, the close logic and the comprehen- 
sive intellect of Sir William Hamilton on the other, have 
shown that science, physical as well as metaphysical, is able 
to maintain its own cause on its own ground against a purely 
phenomenal philosophy. Nor are the disciples of Kant at 
all disposed to yield the ground occupied by that great and 
bold thinker. They feel that toward Kant the course of 
Comte was unjust and ungenerous ; that the French philo- 
sopher took from the German the system of classification 
which was the latter's own, but which the former perverted 
by applying it to an induction which, by excluding psycho- 
logical phenomena and confining it to physical, tells that 
half truth, which is a whole falsehood, — and they are now 
proceeding with a strength greater than even that of their 
master, (for the present controversy shows to them the side 
on which his defences were left the most incomplete,) to 
prove that true philosophy involves not merely those truths 
which arise from phenomenal induction, but those also which 
come from subjective faith and reason. Nor, if we pass to 
the theological element, do we find it dying out. It will 
be enough, in order to meet this point, to call attention to 
the fact, that never, in the history of our race, was that 
evangelical faith which, of all phases of Christianity is the 
one least liable to the charge of symbolism, more active in 
the multiplication of its agencies, more potent in the effect 
produced. Were the question one of mere statistics, it 
would be at once decided. The same sagacity which re- 
cognizes in the Cherbourg dock and in the Parisian walls, 
in the increased discipline and multiplying numbers of the 
French armies, the growing energy of France, could not fail 



§ 197 NOT TET EXTINCT. 2T1 

to perceive a similar proof of the progress of positive Chris- 
tianity in the birth as well as growth of foreign missions in 
the last fifty years, in the extraordinary cotemporaneous re- 
suscitations of the Protestant churches of England and Ger- 
many, and in the power with which the press has acted in 
the same direction through the great publication agencies 
of Great Britain and America. 

In public, and what may be called merely worldly opinion, 
we see no sign of the alleged decay of Christian vigor. In 
view of Comte's doctrine, as expounded by Mr. Buckle, 
"that -more may be learned respecting the moral nature of 
man from statistical facts than from all the accumulated ex- 
perience of ages," let us take, as an example, the attitude 
of the public men of the United States toward religion. It 
is not necessary here to go into the question of the actual 
degree of faith on the part of those whose names will be 
presently mentioned It is sufficient for the present purpose 
to take the proof at its lowest gauge, and to regard them 
merely as representative men, as men responding to and 
reiterating a definite public sentiment. And in this view 
let us take the remarkable contrast between the public men 
of the revolutionary era and those of the present era. Of 
the former, with the exception of Washington, Chief Justice 
Jay, and Richard Henry Lee, it is difficult to find one who 
was an unreserved believer in practical Christianity. Jeffer- 
son rejected the Pauline epistles entirely, discharged from 
the Gospel narratives all the miracles, and, discrediting the 
divine character of Christ, held only to certain of His pre- 
cepts as forming a suitable moral code. John Adams, as 
the correspondence between the two in their latter years 



2?2 THEOLOGY : § 19? 

shows, held to the same belief; nor did Franklin believe even 
as much. But when we pass farther down the line of history, 
a great change is observable. John Quincy Adams, with 
whom the second generation of American statesmen may be 
'said to begin, was a Unitarian, it is true, but of a stamp 
very different from his father. A professed believer in the 
inspiration of the Scriptures, and a regular attendant at 
what in many instances was orthodox public worship, he held 
to a scheme of doctrine which Priestley or Middleton would 
have rejected as identical with orthodoxy. General Jack- 
son was not only in the last few years of his life an earnest 
and devoted professor of religion, according to the usages of 
the Presbyterian Church, but during his whole career unre- 
servedly avowed an intellectual belief. Mr. Polk, though 
with the qualifications which his greater reserve of character 
was likely to produce, took the same position. Mr. Clay, 
Mr. Webster, General Harrison, and Mr. Benton, not only 
professed a belief in Christianity as a Divine scheme, but, 
at the most solemn periods of their lives, announced their 
trust in the evangelical doctrines of grace.* 

* With respect to Mr. Benton, whose rugged individuality led him 
to repel, almost fiercely, attempts on the part of others to enter 
■within the precincts of the emotional in his very remarkable charac- 
ter, we have the following statement recently brought to light, being 
part of a letter from Dr. May, the attendant physician of the de- 
ceased statesman: — 

'• It may not be inappropriate for me here to state that although he 
never expressed to me any views upon the subject of religion, he did 
so freely after this to the Rev. Dr. Sunderland, his pastor and friend, 
as the following statement of Dr. Sunderland will show. He says: — 



§ 198 NOT YET EXTINCT. 213 

§ 198. Now, this change of sentiment may be viewed 
either as the expression of a subjective individual faith, or 
as a response to an altered public sentiment. It is enough 
for the present purpose, as has just been observed, if the 
latter be true. But it is hard to see how the former can, 
with any justice, be rejected. Most of the professions of 
faith made by those whose names have been mentioned, were 
repeated, and this in language the most passionate and un- 
reserved, when they were on their dying beds, with nothing 
to gain from human applause, and everything to lose by 
that Divine displeasure which, even on the deist's principles, 
will visit hypocrisy and falsehood. Now, what interpreta- 
tion does human judgment assign to declarations made un- 
der such circumstances in reference to other issues ? " It is 
considered," says the common law, "that when an individual 
is in constant expectation of immediate death, all tempta- 
tion to falsehood, either of interest, hope, or fear, will be 
removed, and the awful nature of his situation will be pre- 
sumed to impress him as strongly with the necessity of a 
strict adherence to truth as the most solemn obligation of 
an oath administered in a court of justice. When every 
hope of this world is gone, when every motive to falsehood 

During the last week of Col. Benton's life I had several interviews 
with him at his own request. Our conversation was mainly on the 
subject of religion, and in regard to his own views and exercises in 
the speedy prospect of death. In these conversations he most em- 
phatically and distinctly renounced all self-reliance, and cast himself 
entirely on the mediation of the Lord Jesus Christ as the ground of 
his acceptance with God. His own words were, ' God's mercy in 
Jesus Christ is my sole reliance.' " 



2Y4 -metaphysics: §199 

is silenced, and the mind is induced, by the most powerful 
considerations to speak the truth, a situation so solemn and 
awful is considered by the law as creating the most impres- 
sive of sanctions."* If we accept this ^standard, and be- 
lieve that even among public men, a class which almost 
beyond all others is the most drawn away by worldly asso- 
ciations and by pride of opinion from the humbling doc- 
trines of the cross, there is this gradual approach to a 
definite gospel faith, what becomes of the assumption that 
among the " select" men and leaders of human action theo- 
logical belief is extinct ? If we take the other alternative, 
(and both are probably true,) that these declarations of 
opinion are at least in part responsive to a prevailing public 
sentiment, what becomes of the position that the "select" 
races are passing through the same cycle ? 

§ 199. The difficulties which have just been mentioned in 
respect to the theological era apply with equal force to the 
metaphysical. There is no more evidence of metaphysics 
having been born at the burial of theology, than there is of 
theology having been buried at all. There is no more evidence 
of metaphysics passing from infancy to manhood, than there 
is of theology having passed from manhood to death. The 
fact is, psychology, in its fullest sense, has of all sciences 
been the most equal and the least susceptible of variation. 
We may hit upon a series of eras of metaphysical specula- 
tion, and find a difficulty in saying which is the most vigor- 
ous. Certainly if we take the present century there are no 
symptoms of a progress to decay. The Scottish school, 

* See Wharton's Cr. Law, 2 6G9. 



§ 199 STILL EXISTING. -215 

including Reid, Dugald Stewart, Dr. Thomas Brown, Sir J. 
Mackintosh, Sir W. Hamilton; the German, including 
Fichte, Schelling, Hegel, Feuerbach, Kant ; the English, 
including Whewell, Coleridge, Morell, and Archer Butler, 
present an array of intellectual splendor which is indicative 
of anything but a sunset. Nor as we go backward, does 
the brilliancy of the metaphysical orb vary. It would seem 
as if in that point of the intellectual firmament the specu- 
lative genius of men has always centered, and from thence 
diffused its most intense light. Let us go back to the begin- 
ning of the nineteenth century, and see whether in the period 
to which we then arrive we discover an approach to the 
opakeness and chaos of a merely preparatory era. Far 
otherwise; for even Comte himself bows in recognition of 
the almost inspired reason of Bacon, the acute analysis and 
philosophical generalization of Des Cartes, the rarefied 
and inexorable idealism of Spinoza, the exact sense of 
Locke, the extraordinary learning and felicitous ingenuity 
of Leibnitz, and the keen, though merely destructive spe- 
culativism of Hume. Nor, as we go still farther back, do 
we discover any diminution of the power with which the 
cotemporaneous intellectual energies of distinct periods bent 
themselves to this particular point, and diffused from it 
their greatest brightness. So it was in the period of the 
Schoolmen, the occasional frivolity of whose topics should 
never lead us to forget the uniform ingenuity of their spe- 
culations. So it was with that grand Grecian school which 
comprised Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle. So it was at the 
earliest period to which a technical intellectual history takes 
us, viz., that in which Hindu philosophy, at least eight hun- 



276 comte's theory : § 200 

dred years before Christ, almost anticipated future genera- 
tions in refined subtlety. According to Comte, the birth 
of the science of metaphysics was at this time more than 
a thousand years distant. According to Comte, this science, 
at the time of Locke, of Des Cartes, and of Bacon — of all 
its stages the exactest and most disciplined — was in a bab- 
bling and discursive infancy. And now, according to 
Comte, it is being carried to its grave. In point of fact, 
however, its proportions, almost at all times measured by 
the fall standard of the human mind, have remained, as that 
mind has, at an altitude, which, though exhibiting undula- 
tions of surface, preserves now, so far as concerns its creative 
and speculative powers, the same general height that it did 
at the earliest period of its history. 

§ 200. e 2 . In non- Christian countries, Fetichism, as it 
is called, instead of being the accompaniment of a bar- 
baric infancy, is cotemporary with high metaphysical as 
well as artistic culture. 

Take, for instance, Egypt, when at the height of its 
aesthetic splendor, and observe the character of its worship. 
"Ancient Egypt," says Mr. Gross, a writer who is far from 
hostile to modern Positivism, " was a vast menagerie of 
sacred animals, whose ample roof was the vault of heaven ; 
and from the confines of Thebes or Disopolis to the mouth 
of the Nile, at Canobus, the whole country teemed with 
hiero-animal life."* Thus the ram was worshiped at 
Thebes ; the goat at Chemmis, Hermopolis, and Mendes ; 
the dog at Cynopolis ; the wolf at Lycopolis ; the cat at 

* Gross, on Heathen Religions, p. 185. 



§ 200 WHAT HISTORY SAYS. 2TY 

Bubastis ; the crocodile at Tachompso. Besides these local 
deities, there were others to whom was reserved a catholic 
worship. Three holy bulls stood conspicuous among the 
latter. The first was Mnevis, with black and bristly hair ; 
the second Onuphis, whose locks were shaggy and recurved ; 
the third Apis, on whose forehead a ray of light from 
heaven had marked two white spots, one in the shape of a 
triangle, the other in that of a half-moon. To Apis 
"supreme honors were assigned. When found — and the 
chances against a bull with such a combination of color 
and marks were, of course, great — the sacred animal was 
"conveyed in triumphal procession to a temporary abode, 
where, during the space of four months, he was attended 
and fed with the greatest care, in a building, the east side of 
which was uninclosed. At the expiration of this period, a 
festival was proclaimed, which began at the new moon. As 
soon as the solemnities were concluded, Apis was conducted 
to Heliopolis, where he had the honor to have every atten- 
tion shown to him by the priests, during an interval of forty 
days. This time having elapsed, he was finally brought to 
Memphis, and duly installed in the Temple of Phthah, 
where his presence was recognized in clouds of precious 
incense and splendid offerings. If he died, or the time 
arrived when he had to make room for a successor — which 
happened at the termination of the Apis-period, or the 
lunar cycle of twenty-five civil years — there was universal 
mourning throughout Egypt until another Apis was found : 
the dead one was either publicly entombed in the Temple of 
Serapis, or elsewhere privately interred. Apis was the 
symbol of Osiris, considered as the sun, as the Nile, and as 
24 



21 8 fetichism: §201 

the principle of fructification ; and in consequence of the 
connection of Osiris thus defined with Isis, Apis also sym- 
bolized this goddess, regarded as the moon, the fertile 
earth, and material nature."* 

§ 201. Now, if the positive theory be correct, Egypt, at 
the time it was "this vast menagerie of sacred animals," 
must have been swaddled in the grossest ignorance. The 
positive philosopher, if taken to those shores where the cat, 
the dog, and the crocodile were worshiped, would say, 
" Here, at least, I will find the rudeness of semi-idiotic in- 
fancy. Here I will see the human Fetich-worshiper uniting 
in a common religious brotherhood with animals — e.g. the 
dog and the monkey — from whom in moral and intellectual 
attributes he is hardly distinguishable." 

But how was it in fact ? The memorials of the artistic 
skill and of the economical energy and endurance of these 
Fetich-worshipers — the only class in ancient history, in fact, 
who are deserving of this name — will rival any that we 
could suppose modern Europe, with all the advantages of 
present civilization, to exhibit. " It is evident to me," says 
Champollion, " as it must be to all who have thoroughly 
examined Egypt, or have an accurate knowledge of the 
Egyptian monuments existing in Europe, that the arts com- 
menced in Greece by a servile imitation of the arts of Egypt, 
much more advanced than is vulgarly believed, at the period 
at which the first Egyptian colonies came in contact with 
the savage inhabitants of Attica and the Peloponnesus. 
Without Egypt, Greece would probably never have become 

* Gross, on Heathen Religions, p. 188. 



§ 202 NOT BARBARIC. 219 

the classical land of the fine arts. Such is my entire belief 
in this great problem. I write these lines almost in presence 
of bas-reliefs which the Egyptians executed, with the most 
elegant delicacy of workmanship, nineteen hundred years 
before the Christian era,' 1 * No less emphatic is Belzoni's 
testimony, after having, with a battering-ram, burst his way 
at Goornau into these halls of "fabulous splendor," then 
for the first time opened in three thousand years, and found 
surrounded by the most elaborate sculpture, and the most 
vivid paintings, in a mausoleum which even that of the 
Escurial cannot rival, the alabaster sarcophagi of kings 
who were themselves high priests of Fetichism. 

§ 202 The same high artistic culture is exhibited in the 
memorials we have of the cotemporaneous domestic life. 
" The civilization of families," says a very recent observer 
of these cemeteries, " must have been equal to the best days 
of Rome. Articles of luxury, gold and silver ornaments, 
fine colors and embroideries, all abounded, and it appears 
evident that the splendor of life among the wealthy in 
Egypt, at the time of the captivity, was never surpassed, 
even in the days of Cleopatra." "The period of Kemesis 
Sesostris has well been styled the Augustan era of Egypt. 
The Nile valley was a continuous row of prosperous cities, 
magnificent temples, and royal palaces. The arms of the 
country were everywhere triumphant ; the arts were cul- 
tivated, and adorned the cities, houses, and most of all the 
tombs ; nor is there at this remote age an article of house- 
hold luxury, a fauteuil or a cooking utensil, a harp or a 

* Charnpollion's Fifteenth Letter, dated Thebes. 



280 positivism : § 203 

set of toys, that does not seem to have its counterpart in the 
splendid tomb of this monarch, now lying open at Thebes."* 

Nor were the industrial interests of the nation neglected. 
Splendid ships, themselves identified with the public worship 
as symbols, rode the Nile. A canal, one thousand stadia 
long, joined the Red Sea with the Mediterranean. Mining 
was conducted on a scale far transcending that of modern 
times, for mountains were dug down to get at the ore, and 
rivers turned from their channel to wash it out. 

b l . Personal experience. 

a 2 . Psychological. 

§ 203. According to positivism, the experience of all 
men, or, at all events, that of the higher and more culti- 
vated individuals, begins with theology and ends either 
with atheism, or, at least, with the recognition of govern- 
ment by a system of fixed and arbitrary law. 

The experience of all men, we apprehend, is just the 
other way. There are few who, on turning back to the 
earliest period of thought to which their memory can take 
them, but will agree to the position that such period was 
godless. The infant, it is said, is a Fetich-worshiper, and, 
as it stretches out its hands to the fire or the moon, does 
but imitate the Sabaeanism of the Chaldean shepherds. But 
at this early stage of infancy this supposed act of worship 
can be regarded as a mere gesture of pleasure or of ac- 
quisitiveness. This view is strengthened by running the 
parallel still farther. Do we see in childhood the progress 
from Fetichism through polytheism to monotheism ? Comte's 

* Prime's Boat-life in Egypt, etc., pp. 47(5-7. 



§ 204-205 OPPOSED BY EXPERIENCE. 281 

own detachment from society, and his domestic isolation 
(until the later period of his life) combined with the natu- 
ral rigor and coldness which distinguished his earlier days, 
in leading him to estimate the innocent simplicity and faith 
of childhood at a pitch in which few will acquiesce. For 
most of those who go back to even a religiously educated 
infancy will recollect what confused meaning was assigned 
to the theological formulas, e.g. catechisms or hymns, with 
which the early memory was charged, and how the eye asso- 
ciated with the pulpit and the pulpit cushion, the pew, and 
the chancel, anything but religious thoughts. 

§ 204. But we have other tests than that of individual 
retrospection, — tests not unlike those by which, through a 
cavity produced by disease or wounds, Harvey was able to 
verify his theory of the circulation of the blood. Take chil- 
dren, whom blindness and a loss of hearing and of speech 
have sealed up from religious culture, and then, when by the 
humane agencies of modern art, an avenue is at last opened 
to their understanding, observe how utterly ignorant they 
are of the first idea of worship. And so, also, with those 
who have been brought up — as late English parliamentary 
inquiries show us is not rarely the case even in that enlight- 
ened country — in a social ignorance, perhaps even more pro- 
found than that of a deprivation of the senses. 

§ 205. If we measure the condition of the religious ele- 
ment by its moral results we are led to the same conclusion. 
A child's heart gives no indication of any intuitive religious 
ascendency. Dr. Arnold, than whom there have been few 
who have united a wider field of observation with healthier 
discerning faculties, and whose theological bias was not such 
24* 



282 positivism : § 205 

as to lead him to an exaggerated view of innate corruption, 
told the boys at Rugby, in one of his sermons, that the four 
great characteristics of childhood were "teachableness, igno- 
rance, selfishness, and living only for the present."* "In 
the last three of these, the perfect man should put away 
childish things, "f " Our path" (that of those in whom re- 
ligious principle has made a settlement) "is not backivards, 
but onwards * * * * When we compare a boy's state after 
his first half year, or year, at school, with what it is after- 
wards ; when we see the clouds again clearing off ; when we 
find coarseness succeeded again by delicacy ; hardness and 
selfishness again broken up, and giving place to affection 
and benevolence ; murmuring and self-will exchanged for 
humility and self-denial ; and the profane or impure, or false 
tongue uttering again only the words of truth and purity ; 
and when we see that all these good things are now, by 
God's grace, rooted in the character ; that they have been 
tried, and grown up amidst the trial; that the know- 

* It was in reference to the first of these that Arnold considered 
our Lord to speak, when He declared that to enter into the kingdom 
of heaven it was necessary to "become as little children." It should 
be recollected that these words were uttered as part of a rebuke of 
the ambition of the disciples. They desired to know "who should 
be greatest in the kingdom of heaven." They had, in their personal 
assumption, even endeavored to hinder "little children" from coming 
to Him. His answer was such as to show them that those who were 
to enter into the kingdom of heaven were to be stripped of all 
earthly distinctions. They were, in this light, to go back to infancy, 
and, in the second birth, to proceed as naked to the world above as 
in the first birth to the world below. 

f Arnold's Christian Life, its Course, Hindrances, etc., p. 68, etc. 



§ 206 OPPOSED BY EXPERIENCE. 283 

ledge of evil has made them hate it the more, and be the 
more aware of it, — then we can look upon our calling with 
patience, and even with thankfulness. " In this view the loss 
of the mere superficial and ignorant simplicity and ignorance 
of childhood is not to be mourned over, when followed by 
the real humility of Christian experience : — 

Grieve not for these : nor dare lament 

That thus from childhood's thoughts we roam : 
Not backward are our glances bent, 

But forward to our Father's home. 
Eternal growth has no such fears, 

But, freshening still with seasons past, 
The old man clogs its earlier years, 

And simple childhood comes the last.* 

§ 206. The experience of the man of the world will coin- 
cide with that of the Christian on this point. There are few 
who will not recollect periods, both in themselves and in 
children who have come under their observation, in which 
the duty of speaking truth, and of respecting the property 
and regarding the feelings of others, was regarded with far 
greater laxity than it came to be under the influence of 
worldly culture, if not of religious experience, f 

* Burbridge's Poems, p. 309, quoted by Dr. Arnold in a note in 
which he introduces the extract by saying, " This thought," (that in 
the text) "is expressed very beautifully in lines as wise and true as 
they are poetical." 

j- Mr. Thackeray thus speaks on this point: — "The Simplicity of 
Youth. — Nevertheless, as we have hinted, the lad was by no means 
the artless stripling he seemed to be. He was knowing enough, with 



284 positivism : § 201 

b~. Statistical. 

§ 207. Let us turn, however, to " statistics," which are 
assumed by positivism to be of so much higher value than 

all his blushing cheeks ; perhaps more wily and wary than he grew 
to be in after years. Sure, a shrewd and generous man (who has led 
an honest life and has no secret blushes for his conscience) grows 
simpler as he grows older ; arrives at his sum of right by more rapid 
processes of calculation ; learns to eliminate false arguments more 
readily, and hits the mark of truth with less previous trouble of 
aiming and disturbance of mind Or is it only a servile delusion, 
that some of our vanities are cured with our growing years, and that 
we become more just in our perceptions of our own and our neigh- 
bor's shortcomings ? I would humbly suggest that young people, 
though they look prettier, have larger eyes, and not near so many 
wrinkles about their eyelids, are often as artful as some of their 
elders. What little monsters of cunning your frank schoolboys are! 
How they cheat mamma! how they hoodwink papa! how they hum- 
bug the housekeeper ! how they cringe to the big boy for whom they 
fag at school ! what a long lie and five years' hypocrisy and flatter- 
ing is their conduct to Dr. Birch! And the little boys' sisters! are 
they any better, and is it only after they come out in the world that 
the little darlings learn a trick or two ?" — The Virginians, No. 6. 

Montaigne, as we are reminded by Dr. Buchanan,* " speaks of an 
error maintained by Plato, ' that children and old people were most 
susceptible of religion, as if it sprung and derived its credit from our 
weakness.' And we find M. Comte himself complaining, somewhat 
bitterly, that his quondam friend, the celebrated St. Simon, had ex- 
hibited, as he advanced in years, (cette tendance banale vers une 
vague religiosite) a tendency toward something like religion."! The 
same retrograde motion has been exhibited, though in a march still 



* Faith in Gcd, etc., vol. i. p. 438. f 1 Buchanan., on Faith, etc., p. 48S. 



§ 207 OPPOSED BY EXPERIENCE. 285 

psychological observation. And here the statement may be 
safely ventured, that where we find one case of religious in- 
fancy maturing in a skeptical old age, we find twenty of the 
contrary. The Christian will remember the youth of John 
Bunyan, in its strange alternations of roystering debauch 
and awful remorse, and that of John Newton, in its fierce 
abandonment ; nor will the philosopher fail to recall that of 
Robert Hall, pure indeed, but giving its first intellectual 
adhesion to rationalism, and passing through Socinianism to 
evangelical Christianity, and those of Southey, Coleridge, 
and Wordsworth, in which Comte's order was reversed, 
positivism coming first and theology last. Certainly among 
those speaking the English tongue, the cases, even in this 
supposed age of metaphysical doubt, if not of positive skep- 
ticism, are very rare where men of eminence in any depart- 
ment have distinguished their maturer years by avowed 
atheism. Mr. Buckle has thought proper to dispose of the 
splendid exception afforded by Mr. Burke to the pretended 
course of positive development, by announcing that that 
eminent statesman and gorgeous rhetorician was " deranged." 
But, so far as intellectual assent to the truth of Christianity 

more extraordinary for the short period in which it united the ex- 
tremest points, by Mr. 0. A. Brownson, the sociology of whose youth 
has developed into ultramontane Komanism. And lastly, the great 
founder of positivism himself, who was in his own person to have 
exhibited the inexorable progress of phenomenal truth, turns out to 
have yielded to the seductions of superstition, and in his old age, 
as will be presently shown, to have succumbed to a "vague religi- 
osity" which made up for its disbelief in whatever teas revealed, by 
its faith in whatever was not. 



286 positivism : § 207 

is concerned — and that is the only test which positivism 
admits — Mr. Burke, among modern statesmen, is far from 
standing alone. Since the subsidence of the French Revo- 
lution, at which period the positive era is supposed to begin, 
it is difficult to find a public man either in England or this 
country, who has not avowed at least such intellectual be- 
lief. And not a few, as has just been observed, have marked 
the declining years so specially relied on as the period of 
" positive" belief, by an emphatic Christian confession. 

Even among the leaders in inductive science — those whose 
supposed progression toward atheism is the ground-work of 
positive philosophy — there will be found few who do not 
recognize, not merely a definite theism, but the divine lega- 
tion of Christianity itself. " Here," says Dr. Hitchcock, 
speaking on this point, " we reckon the princes of the intel- 
lectual world, such as Newton, Kepler, Galileo, Pascal, 
Boyle, Copernicus, Linnaeus, Black, Boerhaave, and Dal- 
ton ; and among the living such men as Herschel, Brewster, 
Whewell, Sedgwick, Owen, and a multitude of others. 
The very same argumentation that leads such original dis- 
coverers to derive the principles of science from facts in 
nature, carries them irresistibly backward to a First Cause ; 
and, indeed, the inductive principle, as developed by Bacon, 
forms the true basis on which to build the whole fabric of 
natural religion ; and he who fully admits the truth of 
natural religion, is in a state of preparation for receiving 
revealed truth to supply its deficiencies. So that, upon the 
whole, the inductive sciences are, of all others, most favorable 
to religion, and the most intimately connected with it."* 

* Religious Truth Illustrated from Science, p. 31. 



§ 20*7 OPPOSED BY EXPERIENCE. 281 

The educational history of the United States gives no 
support to M. Comte's theory. Take, for instance, .the 
colleges at the era immediately succeeding the Revolution. 
In Yale College, the number of communicants, immediately 
before the accession of President Dwight, was not over ten ; 
and once, when the Lord's Supper was administered, about 
that time, only one undergraduate was present. In 1191 
the tide turned. In 1802, of two hundred and fifty then in 
college, one-third were professed and earnest Christians, 
and of these one-half became clergymen. At present, the 
proportion of church members is much larger. 

In Bowdoin College, from 1802 to 1806, and afterwards 
in 1811, there was not a single professed Christian among 
the undergraduates. In 1825, a reaction began so remark- 
able as to justify the remark of Professor Stowe, that " if 
the religious character of the college gains as much from 
the year 1850 to 1815, as it did from 1825 to 1850, it will 
be all that the most ardent friends of the Lord Jesus can 
reasonably hope for before the millennium. " 

In eleven Xew England colleges in 1853, out of 2163 
students, 145 were professors of religion, and 343 candidates 
for the ministry. At present, 1859, the number of profes- 
sors of religion may be rated as two-thirds of the aggregate. 
In the educational institutions of Europe, the progress has 
been in the same direction. Tholuck tells us that, with the 
exception of Wurtemberg, there were, thirty years ago, 
among the German teachers of divinity, "not more than 
three or four that might be called evangelical." Knapp 
himself, timid in his course, if not indistinct in his concep- 
tions, was the only believer in a real Christianity in the 



288 positivism : § 207 

University of Halle, which contained no less than nine hun- 
dred divinity students ; and he stated at this time, that out 
of one thousand students in general, he knew but one real 
Christian, and he was a Moravian. Neander began the 
battle nearly single-handed, though Schleiermacher walked 
totteringly by his side in his earlier steps, giving an impulse 
even where he was unable to confess a principle. The 
Prussian Evangelical Union of 1817, though patriotic 
rather than religious, registered a marked advance. Then 
came Hengstenberg, resolutely and even defiantly vindicat- 
ing the inspiration of Holy Writ ; and Tholuck and Ols- 
hausen, the one bringing a most pathetic and persuasive 
eloquence, the other an inexhaustible fund of thought, and 
both unswerving loyalty, to the work of exposition. Then 
followed Nitzsch, Julias Miiller, Dorner, Lange, Ullman, 
llothe, Stier, Hagenbach, Herzog, Twesten, eminent for 
their literary gifts, turning back the current of skeptical 
culture that was almost submerging Germany, and with 
them Wicheru in all the loveliness of his comprehensive 
Christian tenderness. Thirty years ago, there was scarcely 
an orthodox minister to be found. At the Kirchentag held 
in Berlin in 1853, there were two thousand, and these all 
representative-men. In Berlin, we have in the theological 
chairs, Hengstenberg, Tholuck, Twesten, and Mtzsch, and in 
the pulpits, Kriimmacher, Hoffman, Arndt, and Biichsel. 
In Gottingen, positive orthodoxy is taught by Dorner and 
Ehrenfeuchter. Leipsic, once the seat of a resolute skep- 
ticism, now has its theological faculty controlled by Linder, 
Ahlfeld, and Kahnis, all holding a high Lutheranism, and 
the latter, as those familiar with his essay on German Pro- 



§ 208 • OPPOSED TO EXPERIENCE. 289 

testantisin will bear witness, maintaining an almost uncom- 
promising altituclinarianism. In Tubingen, Beck, Landerer, 
Palmer, and Oehler, all of them " without exception de- 
cidedly Christian and evangelical scholars,"* follow Strauss, 
Yischer, and Baur. 

I can see no facts in England on which the induction of 
Comte, or of Mr. Buckle, who follows him in this respect, can 
be based. The revival of the Anglican Church at the close 
of the last century is notorious. The funds contributed toward 
foreign missions form a test of this. From 1169 to 1788, 
they averaged at £4114. In 1835 they were about £100,000. 
In 1856 they were £250,000. The increase has been equal 
and gradual. In education the movement has certainly not 
been in the contrary direction. " The tone of young men 
at the University," said Dr. Maberly, head-master at Win- 
chester, speaking of thirty years back, "whether they came 
from Winchester, Eton, Bugby, Harrow, or wherever else, 
was universally irreligious. A religious undergraduate was 
very rare." But speaking of fifteen years after, the same 
authority says, " Dr. Arnold's pupils were thoughtful, manly- 
minded, conscious of duty and obligations when they first 
came to college." 

c l . Organic structure. 

§ 208. "The scientific principle," says Comte,f "involved 
in the phrenological view, is that the functions, affective 

* Schaff 's Germany and. its Universities, p. 101, from which a part 
of the sketch in the text is reduced. 

■j- Pos. Phil., Martineau's trans., Appleton's edition, p. 388. 
25 






290 positivism : § 209-210 

and intellectual, are more elevated, more human, if you 
will, and at the same time less energetic, in proportion to 
the exclusiveness with which they belong to the higher part 
of the zoological series, their positions being in portions of 
the brain more and more restricted in extent, and further 
removed from its immediate origin, — according to the ana- 
tomical decision that the skull is simply a prolongation of 
the vertebral column, which is the primitive centre of the 
nervous system. Thus, the least developed and anterior 
part of the brain is appropriated to the characteristic facul- 
ties of humanity ; and the most voluminous and hindmost 
part to those which constitute the basis of the whole of the 
animal kingdom. Here we have a new and confirmatory 
instance of the rule which we have had to follow in every 
science ; that it is necessary to proceed from the most 
general to the more special attributes, in the order of their 
diminishing generality." 

From this general position the conclusion is reached that, 
as arising upward from the vertebral column, we come first 
to the animal properties, next to the sentimental, and then 
to the intellectual, so human life will fall into three parallel 
divisions. To this it may be remarked : — 

§ 209. a 2 . It rests on a theory which in itself is not much 
more than a mere hypothesis, and which, in its present ap- 
plication, is negatived by, the fact that the supposed organs 
in the cranium have been removed without affecting the cor- 
responding attributes. 

§ 210. b 2 . Life does not show that the sensual, the senti- 
mental, and the intellectual, separate into distinct grades. 
On the contrary, they coexist in so large a number of cases 



§211-212 HOW FAR ATHEISTIC. 291 

as to defeat any reliable generalization. " Lusty minds give 
lusty morals," we have been told; and the cases of Mira- 
beau, of Burns, of Byron, are sad illustrations of this truth. 
§211. c 2 . If we extend the proposition over history, we 
find an insuperable difficulty from the argument proving too 
much. If each of the three compartments of the brain is 
to have its group of centuries, each of the minor lobes is to* 
have its decade. If we are to have a final period for the 
intellectual, we must have that period subdivided, as is the 
front of the brain, so that each of the intellectual, or semi- 
intellectual faculties — causality, comparison, music, form — 
can have its specific era. It is not necessary to pause here 
to say that this assumption is as hostile to present experi- 
ence as is the hypothesis of the general stages to past 
history. 

c. General considerations by which the positiyist 

PHILOSOPHY IS TO BE MET. 

a 1 . The pushing back of first causes strengthens rather 
than weakens the theistic argument. 

§ 212. The falling of water may be so governed as to 
move the hands of a twenty-four hour clock, but to make a 
clock that will wind itself in periodic succession requires the 
highest degree of human skill, — to so construct it that it 
will renew itself indefinitely, requires a skill which is divine. 
If we trace marks of contrivance in that law of adaptation 
which would place a hundred water-clocks in harmonious 
actiou, should we not trace such marks still more strongly in 
a mechanism capable itself of making and governing such 
clocks in an infinite succession ? 



292 positivism : § 213 

The hand-car on a railroad, also, as it glides before us 
under the immediate action of the human hand, leaves no 
doubt on our minds as to the spontaneity and purpose with 
which it moves. Is this conviction diminished when we find 
this specific impulse, caught up with an infinite series of 
others, and united in a vast consistent plan ; when we see 
hundreds of locomotives — some with freight, some with pas- 
sengers, each governed by its own law which substitutes 
mechanical for human strength — traversing, in obedience to 
a preordained programme, a road several hundred miles 
long, and this with almost perfect regularity as to distances 
and hours ? That the development of a system of general 
and harmonious laws is looked upon by the positivist as 
hostile to theism, is not disputed ; and it is equally clear 
that the positive philosophers have striven to make this im- 
pression both general and deep. Undoubtedly the code 
which they have endeavored to extract from the phenomena 
of the universe is destructive of all faith in Providence, but 
the objection lies, not to their seeking to establish the gene- 
ral laws by which the world is governed, but to the very 
erroneous induction by which the laws they announce have 
been obtained. The existence of a comprehensive and bene- 
ficent system of law, in fact, is the strongest evidence of the 
existence of a Divine lawmaker and judge. 

b 1 . No materials exist from which a system of positive 
laws, as forming a Divine rule of government, may be 
inferred. 

§ 213. There is a vital distinction between a causal law, 
i.e. one that rules the genesis of events, and an empirical 
law, one that merely registers their occurrence. There is a 



§ 213 ITS INDUCTION IMPERFECT. 293 

vital distinction, for instance, between the time-tables issued 
from period to period by the officers of an extended rail- 
road and the systematized observation of running by even a 
long and accurate series of travelers. The records of the 
latter are open to error : (1) from the imperfectness of ob- 
servation ; (2) from occasional disturbances of time at spe- 
cific points, which may be compensated for in the long run ; 
(3) and — which is the main consideration — from a varia- 
tion in the hours of departure of the trains which the time- 
table itself may indicate as to take place at a specific period, 
but which prior observations will not denote. Now, let a 
traveler rely on the latter, and he will find that though in a 
mere statistical point of view the results, like empirical laws 
in general, are interesting as helps to the memory, and 
useful as the base for business tables, they are in them- 
selves of no permanent and absolute value as indications of 
the future. What is more, supposing, as geology teaches 
us, that there are certain cycles of interruption in the pro- 
cess of the universe itself, these empirical results lead to 
positive error. A man who relies on a superseded table of 
hours of departure is worse off than he who goes to the 
depot and waits. 

It would be out of place to show here that the mere mne- 
monic tables of phenomenal observation are, from their 
nature, subject to certain periodic interruptions, whose secret 
mere human induction cannot reach, but which destroy their 
continuous value. Mr. Babbage, in that remarkable treatise 
known as the "Ninth Bridgewater Treatise," has shown that 
in a very long series of events such periodic variations, i. e. 
alterations by the Grand Engineer of the universe, of the 
25* 



294 positivism: §214 

time-table by which events proceed, are mathematically cer- 
tain. The geologic record gives proof that such alterations 
and readjustments have from time to time occurred. 

§ 214. The results of empirical observation are, there- 
fore, incapable of becoming permanent laws for the future. 

In this connection the following remarks, by Archbishop 
Whately, may be well studied : — " There is no more fruitful 
source of confusion of thought than that ambiguity of the 
language employed on these subjects, (logical and physical 
sequence,) which tends to confound together these two 
things so entirely distinct in their nature. There is hardly 
any argumentative writer on subjects involving a discussion 
of the Causes or Effects of anything, who has clearly per- 
ceived and steadily kept in view the distinction I have been 
speaking of, or who has escaped the errors and perplexities 
thence resulting. The wide extent accordingly, and the im- 
portance of the mistakes and difficulties arising out of the 
ambiguity complained of, is incalculable. Of all the ' Idola 
Fori,'* none is perhaps more important in its results. To 
dilate upon this point as fully as might be done with advan- 
tage, would exceed my present limits ; but it will not- be 
irrelevant to offer some remarks on the origin of the ambi- 
guity complained of, and on the cautions to be used in 
guarding against being misled by it. 

" The Premise by which anything is proved is not neces- 
sarily the Cause of the fact's being such as it is, but it is 
the cause of our knowing, or being convinced that it is so ; 
e.g. the wetness of the earth is not the cause of rain, but it 

* Bacon. 



§ 215 ITS INDUCTION IMPERPECT. 295 

is the cause of our knowing that it has rained. These two 
things — the Premise which produces our conviction, and 
the Cause which produces that of which we are convinced — 
are the more likely to be confounded together, in the loose- 
ness of colloquial language, from the circumstance that (as 
has been above remarked) they frequently coincide ; as, e.g. 
when we infer that the ground will be wet from the fall of 
rain which produces that wetness. And hence it is that 
the same words have come to be applied, in common, to 
each kind of Sequence; e.g. an Effect is said to 'follow' 
from a Cause, and a Conclusion to ' follow' from the Pre- 
mises ; the words ' Cause' and ' Reason,' are each applied 
indifferently, both to a Cause properly so called, and to the 
Premise of an Argument; though 'Reason,' in strictness 
of speaking, should be confined to the latter. 'Therefore,' 
'hence,' 'consequently,' etc., and also 'since,' 'because,' and 
' why,' have, likewise, a corresponding ambiguity. 

§ 215. " The multitude of words which bear this double 
meaning (and that in all languages) greatly increases our 
liability to be misled by it ; since thus the very means men 
resort to for ascertaining the sense of any expression are in- 
fected with the very same ambiguity ; e.g. if we inquire what 
is meant by a ' Cause,' we shall be told that it is that from 
which something 'follows;' or, which is indicated by the 
words 'therefore,' 'consequently,' etc., all of which expres- 
sions are as equivocal and uncertain in their signification 
as the original one. It is in vain to attempt ascertaining by 
the balance the true amount of any commodity if uncertain 
weights are placed in the opposite scale. Hence it is that 
so many writers, in investigating the Cause to which any 



296 positivism: §216 

fact or phenomenon is to be attributed, have assigned that 
which is not a Cause, but only a Proof that the fact is so ; 
and have thus been led into an endless train of errors and 
perplexities."* 

c\ The subordination of human conduct to absolute law 
is destructive of individuality. 

§ 216. The influence of positive philosophy on merely in- 
tellectual progress it may not be out of place here briefly to 
consider, f Metaphysical speculation it is the avowed ob- 
ject of positivism to extinguish. What would be the result 
of this is stated by Sir W. Hamilton in the following bril- 
liant passage : — 

* Whately'sPvhet., part i. chap. ii. \ 3. 

f This is shown in science itself. Positivism, as adjusted by 
Comte, is to be a finality beyond which discovery is not to go. Even 
the astronomer, according to the positivist chief, is to be admonished 
lest he push his investigations too far. 

"We subjectively, then, condense all astronomical theories round 
our globe as a centre ; and we absolutely reject all theories which, 
as disconnected with our globe, are by that fact at once mere idle 
questions, even granting them to be within our reach. This leads us 
finally to eliminate, not merely the so-called sidereal astronomy, but 
all planetary studies which concern stars invisible to the naked eye, 
and which have, consequently, no real influence on the earth. The 
true domain of astronomy will now, as at the beginning of things, be 
limited to the five planets which have always been known, together 
with the sun, equally the centre of their movements as of the earth's 
and the moon, our only satellite in the heavens. * * * * * 

"We put aside all inquiries, as absurd as they are idle, as to the 
temperature of the stars or their internal constitution. * * * 

"Biology may be led to lay too much stress on insignificant beings 
or acts." 



§ 216 HOW FAR DESPOTIC. 291 

" "Nov would such a result have been desirable, had the 
one exclusive opinion been true, as it was false — innocent, 
as it was corruptive. If the accomplishment of philosophy 
imply a cessation of discussion — if the result of speculation 
be a paralysis of itself; the consummation of knowledge is 
the condition of intellectual barbarism. Plato has pro- 
oundly denned man, 'the hunter of truth;'' for in this chase, 
as in others, the pursuit is all in all, the success compar- 
atively nothing. ' Did the Almighty,' says Lessing, ' hold- 
ing in His right hand Truth, and in His left Search after 
Truth, deign to proffer me the one I might prefer ; — in all 
humility, but without hesitation, I should request — Search 
after Truth.'' We exist only as we energize ; pleasure is 
the reflex of unimpeded energy; energy is the mean by 
which our faculties are developed ; and a higher energy the 
end which their development proposes. In action is thus 
contained the existence, happiness, improvement, and per- 
fection of our being ; and knowledge is only precious as it 
may afford a stimulus to the exercise of our powers, and 
the condition of their more complete activity. Speculative 
truth is, therefore, subordinate to speculation itself; and its 
value is directly measured by the quantity of energy which 
it occasions — immediately in its discovery — mediately 
through its consequences. Life to Endymion was not pre- 
ferable to death ; aloof from practice, a waking error is 
better than a sleeping truth. Neither, in point of fact, is 
there found any proportion between the possession of truths 
and the development of the mind in which they are de- 
posited. Every learner in science is now familiar with 
more truths than Aristotle or Plato ever dreamt of know- 



298 positivism : §210 

ing ; yet, compared with the Stagirite or the Athenian, how 
few among our masters of modern science rank higher than 
intellectual barbarians ! Ancient Greece and modern Eu- 
rope prove, indeed, that 'the march of intellect' is no 
inseparable concomitant of 'the march of science;' — that 
the cultivation of the individual is not to be rashly con- 
founded with the progress of the species. 

"But if the possession of theoretical facts be not convert-" 
ible with mental improvement ; and if the former be import- 
ant only as subservient to the latter; it follows that the 
comparative utility of a study is not to be principally esti- 
mated by the complement of truths which it may communi- 
cate, but by the degree in which it determines our higher 
capacities to action. But though this be the standard by 
which the different methods, the different branches, and the 
different masters of philosophy ought to be principally (and 
it is the only criterion by which they can all be satisfac- 
torily) tried ; it is nevertheless a standard by which neither 
methods, nor sciences, nor philosophers have ever yet been 
even inadequately appreciated. The critical history of 
philosophy, in this spirit, has still to be written ; and when 
written, how opposite will be the rank, which on the higher 
and more certain standard, it will frequently adjudge — to 
the various branches of knowledge, and the various modes 
of their cultivation — to different ages, and countries, and 
individuals, from that which has been hitherto partially 
awarded, on the vacillating authority of the lower ! 

" On this ground (which we have not been able to state, 
far less adequately to illustrate,) we rest the pre-eminent 
utility of metaphysical speculations. That they comprehend 



§ 217-218 its despotism. 299 

all the sublimest objects of our theoretical and moral in- 
terest ; that every (natural) conclusion concerning God, the 
soul, the present worth and the future destiny of man, is 
exclusively metaphysical, will be at once admitted. But we 
do not found the importance, on the paramount dignity, of 
the pursuit. It is as the best gymnastic of the mind — as 
a mean, principally, and almost exclusively conducive to the 
highest education of our noblest powers, that we would 
vindicate to these speculations the necessity which has too 
frequently been denied them. By no other intellectual ap- 
plication (and least of all by physical pursuits) is the soul 
thus reflected on itself, and its faculties concentred in such 
independent, vigorous, unwonted, and continued energy ; 
by none, therefore, are its best capacities so variously and 
intensely evolved. ' Where there is most life, there is the 
victory.*'" 

§ 21 1. Without accepting all the positions laid down in 
the remarkable passage which is given above, it is enough 
for the present purpose to call attention to the truth of the 
main position Sir W. Hamilton establishes, viz., that it 
is essential to intellectual life, as well as to spiritual, that 
there should be a continued striving toward the infinite, a 
gradual growth and strengthening by an approximation to 
the centre of Truth and Grace. 

§ 218. So much for freedom of thought. As to the in- 
fluence of positivism on freedom of action, there is still 
less room to doubt. Individual liberty, as a factor, did 
not enter into the calculations of the great founder of 

* Sir W. Hamilton's Discussions, p. 46 ; Harper's edition. 



300 positivism : § 218 

positivism^ Everything, by his philosophy, as will be pre- 
sently more fully shown, is to be done by a splendid and 
exhaustive centralization. By this are to be ordained rites 
and ceremonies, creeds and beliefs, natural affection and 
supernatural awe, occupations and pursuits, labor and re- 
laxation, manners and usages. Throughout the whole of 
the comprehensive and elaborate scheme which Comte has 
developed as the digest of past experience and the law 
of future action, we meet with no reference to the liberty of 
choice on the part of the individual man. Everything is 
prescribed by him down to the minutest detail. All power 
is taken from the individual and vested in the government 
which is to execute this complex code. Of course, in such 
a scheme a representative government is out of the ques- 
tion. Hence it is that the central authority proposed by 
Comte is essentially autocratic. It is to act, it is true, in 
conformity with "the positive laws of nature," so far as they 
are discovered; but as it executes, so it interprets these 
laws, and, when they do not apply, ordains new laws for the 
special purpose. It is no wonder, therefore, that Comte 
hailed with rapture the resuscitation of the Napoleonic 
system which marked his later days, and declared the 
usurpation of December 2, 1850, by which Louis Napoleon, 
in violation of his oath, destroyed the French constitution, 
and assumed dictatorial powers, to be "the fortunate crisis 
which has lately set aside the parliamentary regimen, and 
instituted a dictatorial republic." So it is also that the 
Emperor Nicholas is eulogized as one "who, while he gives 
the immense empire of Russia all the progress compatible 
with its actual condition, preserves it by his energy and 



§ 219 ITS PARALYSIS. 301 

prudence from useless ferment." To positivism repre- 
sentative government is peculiarly inauspicious. " The 
actual form of dictatorial power," says Comte, speaking of 
France, " already permits the direct propagation of all 
thought that has a tendency to reconstruction. For it has 
at last (Napoleon III.'s destruction of the Republic) broken 
the power, which could lead to no good, of mere talkers. 
"* * * During the last four years the reason of the 
people has suffered profoundly from the unfortunate exer- 
cise of universal suffrage. * * A blind spirit of pride 
has been developed in our proletaires, and they have been 
led to think that they could settle the highest social ques- 
tions without any serious study. The southern population 
of Western Europe have been much less tainted by evil. 
The resistance of Catholicism has sheltered them against 
the metaphysical influence of Protestantism and Deism. But 
reading negative books begins to spread the spirit even 
there." 

§ 219. One remedy alone exists, and that is the creation 
of a dictator, who, armed with a positive law of inexorable 
precision and universal application, controls not merely 
society, but thought. This scheme, it is hardly necessary 
to say, is as fatal to intellectual growth as it is to 
moral agency and civil freedom. "We may, then, well pause 
to apply to the genius of positivism that magnificent re- 
ply, which Schiller gives us, as addressed by the Marquis 
von Posa to Philip II. : — 

26 



302 positivism : § 219 

Philip. (Something in the way in which Comte complacently turns to 
the south of Europe.) Look 

Upon my Spain. Do you not see that here 
Blooms happiness beneath unclouded peace ? 
This rest to Flanders I would now extend. 

Marquis. 
A churchyard's rest ! And you yet would hope 
To end what you have now begun ; you hope 
To check the upward growth of Christendom, 
The universal spring-tide to restrain 
That all the world would freshen ! You would stand 
Alone in Europe ; you would cast yourself 
Under the wheel of that sublime decree 
That orders all things onward ; you would seize 
With human arm upon its spokes ! 
* * But no ! 
Nature herself forbids it ! She is built 
On freedom, and from it her opulence 
Is drawn. 

And He, the world's great Architect, 
Rather than see man's liberty destroyed, 
Permits the hosts of sin awhile to rage. 
Grandly He sits behind vice-regent laws, — 
He, the great Master-workman; and those laws, 
But not Himself, the blinded skeptic sees, 
And cries " laws, be our divinity!" 
And see ! This skeptic's blasphemy speaks more 
To His great praise than e'en the Christian's psalm.* 

* Schiller, Don Carlos, act ii., scene x. I have given in the text 
rather a paraphrase than a translation. The original stands thus ; — 

Philip. 

Sehet 
In meinem Spanien euch um. Hier bliiht 



§ 220 ITS OBSTRUCTIVISM. 303 

It is in this that we may see the inconsistency of posi- 
tivism with human liberty and progress. 

d 1 . The religious sanctions of positivism are inade- 
quate. 

a 2 . In what these sanctions consist. 

§ 220. In his " Catechisme de la Religion Positive,"* a 



Des Burgers Gliick in nie bewolktem Frieden ; 
Und diese Ptuhe gonn' ich den Flarn'andern. 

Marquis, (schnell.) 
Die Ruke eines Kirchhofs ! Und Sie hoffen 
Zu endigen, was sie begannen ; hoffen 
Der Ckristenheit gezeitigte Verwandlung, 
Den allgemeinem Friikling aufzuhalten, 
Der die Gestatt der welt verjungt ? Sie wollen 
Allein in ganz Europa ; sick dem Rade 
Des Weltverkangnisses, das unaufhaltsam 
In vollem Laufe vollt, engegen werfen ? 
Mit mensckenarm in seine Speicken fallen ? 
Sie werden nickt ! * * * 

Seken Sie sick um 
In seiner kerrlicken Natur ! Auf Freikeit 
1st se gegrlindet — und wie reick ist sie 
Durck Freikeit I * * * 

Er — der Freikeit 
Entziickende Ersckeinung nickt zu storen — 
Er lasst des Uebels grauenvolles Herr 
In seinem Welt all lieber toben — ikn 
Den Kiintzler, wird man nickt gewakr, besckeiden 
Verkullt er sick in ewige Gesetze ; 
Die siekt der Freigeist, dock nickt ikn. Wozu 
Ein Gott ? sagt er ; die Welt ist sick genug ! 
Und keines Ckristen Andackt kat ikn rnekr 
Als dieses Freigeists Lasterung gepriesen. 
* Tke translation used in tke text is by Mr. Congreve. London : 
Jokn Ckapman, 1858. 



304 POSITIVE RELIGION : § 220 

work not published by him until his maturer years, Comte 
brings before us a system of religion which he considers as 
a requisite appendage to the code of economical law he 
previously promulged. His position, when he conceived 
this scheme, was greatly changed from what it was when 
his lectures were planned. Then he was poor, friendless, 
obscure, and solitary. Now he has affluence at his com- 
mand; he has many friends who are capable both of ap- 
preciating and of rewarding his services ; he is at the 
head of a numerous school of enthusiastic disciples ; his 
genius is acknowledged even where his doctrines are the 
most condemned ; and he has established a home of his 
own, at the head of which stands a lady who, however un- 
reconcilable with Christian ethics may have been her con- 
nection with him, devotes powers of fascination, almost un- 
rivaled, to the object of making that home happy.* The 

* Comte has made his relations to Madame Clotilde de Vaux pub- 
lic property by introducing them into the mythology of which he is 
the centre. The most devout worshiper of the Olympian gods could 
not speak Of their domestic alliances with a more delicate reverence 
than does the founder of positivism when speaking of her, who, 
though entering for a time into his home, passed from thence to the 
throne before which all men are to bow. Greater himself than Numa 
Pompilius, inasmuch as the laws which regulate mind are higher 
than those which regulate matter, she, " the holy Clotilde," the com- 
panion of his solitude and reinvigorator of his philosophy, rises 
above the nymph Egeria, and unites the three anomalous attributes 
of being "his objective daughter," "his subjective mother," and 
"the best personification of the Supreme Being." Mormonism can- 
not surpass this in its grotesque sacrilegiousness ; Mormonism, in its 
spiritual wifedoms, scarcely gives us anything worse than the rela- 



§ 220 HOW IT CAME ABOUT. 305 

austere philosopher, under this soothing influence, found a 
new sphere open to him which required a new code of laws 
for its government. Sensibility to the beautiful and the re- 

tions which are covered with this mythological veil. Of this "angelic 
impulse that commanded his second life," this "incomparable angel," 
as he thinks proper to call her, we know but little more than that 
she was a married woman and a novelist, and that by some process 
which is not defined, she had, when she met Comte, got rid of her 
husband, and attained what the philosopher calls an "irreproachable 
moral freedom." Comte, who had previously formed a marriage of 
convenience, the object of which was to rescue him from immediate 
want, and having now, not very generously, wnen his circumstances 
made him independent, also got rid of his wife, is circulating 
through the community in the like "irreproachable moral freedom," 
when he encounters Madame de Vaus. Disengaged as each is, and 
attracted by "the sad conformity of their domestic relations," the 
philosopher and the sentimentalist find that the one is the comple- 
ment of the other, and that the two, by the necessities of nature, 
form but one. They unite, enter together into "a holy home," 
maintaining what he calls an objective union, until, by an inter- 
change of elements, he learns love and she positivism ; he becomes 
sentimental and she strong-minded. After this union of a year she 
dies, or rather, to speak the language of positivism, passes to "her 
glorious subjective eternity" from "her sad objective existence." 
Now, all this would be as irrelevant here as it appears at first sight 
inconsistent with so grave a topic, were it not that Comte makes 
these relations the basis of the theology of positivism as much as 
were the relations of Jupiter, of Juno, and of Venus, made the basis 
of the mythology which directed the foundation of ancient Rome. 
The future iEneas of positivism, who seeks to colonize it on an in- 
hospitable shore, will have to rely on the softening influence of this 
high priestess of love to modify the sterner influences and principles 
26* 



306 POSITIVE religion: §220 

fined ; reverence for the sublime ; affection for the lovely, — 
these he discovered to be conservative as well as recupe- 
rative elements which it was desirable to organize and culti- 
vate. There must be an ecclesiasticism erected to form the 
trellis to train up one class of sentiments ; there is to be a 
system of family sacraments in like manner to train another 
class. This training, it is true, was not to be for heaven, 
but for earth. The plants which it is to cultivate are to 
be serial, not perennial; they are to bloom for this life 
alone, and then to be forever buried in the grave. But it is 
no small tribute to the importance of religion, and to the 
universal craving of man for an object of worship, that the 
chief apostle of modern atheism should find it necessary to 
his system to create an imitation god in order to supply this 
craving and satisfy these orphaned affections. Women who 
have become deranged from the loss of their offspring, we 
have been lately told, have found solace, under the skillful 
management of the psychological physician, in infants be- 
longing to others which have been placed in their arms. In 
this we have proof of a mother's love, and of her sense of 
loss of the thing loved. The great reconstructer of society 
in our own time has borne witness to analogous truths in his 
attempts to substitute a sham for a real divinity. He 

which, before that time, controlled the great Chief Priest of hu- 
manity. Comte himself confesses this in one of his addresses to his 
disciples. "I have just completed," he says, "the principal part of 
my religious structure, and the decisive little work in which the sub- 
jective participation of my holy, eternal companion is already unanimously 
recognized. * * * It is for this reason that I shall always repudiate 
the stupid material economy which would deprive me of a powerful 
spiritual assist an ee. ' ' 



§ 220 IN WHAT IT CONSISTS. " 30Y 

has thus attested not only man's craving for, but his orphan- 
age from God. 

The new faith, which is to form the theology of positivism, 
and which is set forth in the catechism before us, involves 
the denial of the existence both of God and of the human 
soul. In order, however, to develop the qualities of reve- 
rence and subordination to the Infinite and Absolute — 
qualities which Comte now discovers to be important to the 
healthy growth of the race — certain fictions are to be pre- 
sented to the inquirer, not as real food, but as corals with 
which to promote philosophical dentition. The articles in 
this creed are somewhat as follows : — 

A " Great Spirit," which is the aggregate of all humanity, 
being an absorption of "the continuous succession of ge- 
nerations." Each "true servant of humanity" (of the fate 
of others not falling under the bounds of positive fidelity 
we are not informed) "has two forms of existence." The 
first of these is that of conscious individuality, which is 
what precedes death. The second begins after death, and 
is a state of entire unconsciousness. The soul survives only 
in the "heart and intellect of others." It is no longer, 
however, an " entity" as to itself, but is only a memory re- 
tained by society. It is a shadow without a substance. It 
forms, however, in connection with its associates, the 
" Great Spirit," which is the aggregation of the memories 
of the great dead as marshaled in the perceptions of the 
living. It is here that we are to find at once the object of 
supreme worship and the motive for an earnest probation. 

But in what way is this worship to be conducted and this 
probation to be made available ? The answer is given with 



308 POSITIVE RITUALISM : § 221 

a detailed and inexorable precision, which leaves to the dis- 
ciple of positivism not even ritual discretion. There are to 
be two forms of worship, the public and the private. Of 
these, the latter is the chief, and is to be " addressed to wo- 
men;" the former the subordinate, and is to be addressed 
" to humanity." " The affective sex" — for it is in this light, 
and not that of strong-mindedness, that woman is placed in 
order to become the object of positivist worship — " is na- 
turally the most perfect representation of humanity, and at 
the same time her principal minister." " The mother, the 
wife, the daughter, must in our worship * * * develop 
in us respectively — the mother, veneration ; the wife, attach- 
ment ; the daughter, kindness." Women are to reciprocate 
this worship by adding to it that of their husbands and 
sons. 

§ 221. Among the ordinances thus established, were nine 
social sacraments. These are : — 

"Presentation," an equivalent to baptism. 

" Initiation," commemorating the passage of the child 
from his mother's hands to those of the "priesthood," in 
whom is vested the charge over public education. 

"Admission," by which the disciple "is authorized to 
serve humanity," though as to what this means we have no 
further information. 

" Destination," which is fixed at the age of twenty-eight, 
until which period the particular line of duty of the candi- 
date is to remain undetermined, a system which we appre- 
hend would not be very acceptable among our American 
pioneers. 



§ 221 ITS SACRAMENTS. 309 

" Marriage," which men cannot enter into until they are 
twenty-eight, nor women until they are twenty-one. 

"Maturity," which is to indicate and solemnize the arrival 
of a full intellectual and physical development, and which 
is fixed at forty-two. 

" Retirement," which is placed at sixty-three, when the 
pupil, for such he always remains, being but an automaton 
member of this vast and remorseless social mechanism, is to 
go into a seclusion similar to that of the monastery, sur- 
rendering his property, except what is enough for his mere 
personal wants. 

" Transformation," which is a substitute for the Romish 
extreme unction, in which the positivist " Priesthood mingles 
the regrets of society with the tears of the family of the de- 
ceased, and shows that it has a just appreciation of the life 
that is ended. It first secures, when possible, compensation 
for errors committed, and then it generally holds out the 
hope of subjective incorporation." 

" Incorporation," which represents the Romish canoniza- 
tion, and which takes place seven years after death, when " a 
solemn judgment, an idea," (not a reality, for immortality is 
a mere fiction,) "ivhicJi, in its germ, sociocracy borrows 
from theocracy, finally decides the lot of each." 

In the positivist ritual, everything in the shape of the old 
calendar is to be uprooted, with the exception of the days 
of the week, whose names are to be retained rather as indi- 
cating the servitude of the past than of conciliating its pre- 
judices. There are to be thirteen monthly festivals, each of 
which commemorates either the supreme humanity itself, or 
some of its component items, including " women, or the 



310 POSITIVE CEREMONIAL § 221 

moral Providence of the race;" "the conjugal union," 
which is to be personified as a sub-god; and the "collective 
dead," or at least such of them as have been incorporated in 
the essence of humanity. Not only are the services of the 
monthly festivals thus prescribed, but in those of each week 
the topics of contemplation and adoration are arbitrarily 
and finally determined. And even as to the gestures to be 
used in repeating the formulas of faith, there is to be no 
discretion. When this is done, the worshiper is to " place 
the hands in succession on the three chief organs — those of 
love, order, and progress." 

So with regard to ecclesiastical architecture and sym- 
bolism. Modern philosophy will never be able to taunt 
Christian ecclesiasticism with finicalness, when the directory 
of the great founder of positivism is kept in view. Enter- 
taining no doubt that the Romish Church would gradually 
pass into his school, Comte, in condescension to the incon- 
venience which would arise from erecting a large number of 
new temples after his peculiar plan, agreed that the "old 
churches, in proportion as they fall into disuse," should be 
accepted and employed by the positivist priesthood. This, 
however, ought not to be long. The earliest practical time 
should be chosen to erect new temples, concerning which 
certain positive directions were laid down. They must 
" orientate," if a term may be borrowed from modern eccle- 
siology, toward Paris, which is the metropolis of humanity, 
and which, therefore, as humanity with the positivist is 
God, is the heaven toward which the worshiper should turn. 
A "sacred wood" is to surround the temples, and in each 
there is to be placed, as "the symbol of our goddess," "a 






§ 221 AND PRIESTHOOD. 311 

woman of thirty, with her son in her arms." Even the 
trappings of the religious processions are regulated. Ban- 
ners are to be carried, on the " white sides of which" " will 
be the holy image;" " on their green, the sacred formula of 
positivism." 

The positivist priesthood is endowed with power greater 
than even Hildebrand claimed for the pontifical hierarchy. 
The priests, of whom for the western world there are to be 
twenty thousand, are, each in his special sphere, though in 
subordination to the central high priest, to control the 
education, to administer the sacraments, and to promulgate 
the ethics, by which the minds of their particular parishion- 
ers are to be influenced and their conduct controlled. The 
priests are to have the government of the public treasury, 
disbursing it as they think fit. Marriage with the priest is 
obligatory, though like all other positivists, he cannot 
marry before twenty-eight, and then only once. The ulti- 
mate control of this enormous and absolute sacerdotalism 
is a high priest, whose see is to be Paris. 

But while this vast authority is thus vested in the positivist 
hierarchy, the founder of the system did not let it pass from 
his hands until he had prescribed what course was to be 
taken in respect to every contingency that fell within his 
contemplation. Even the method of study was regulated 
by a standard which was to be universally applied to the 
dull as well as to the brilliant, to the poet as well as the 
philosopher. The boy, after receiving the sacrament of 
initiation, is to go to the "school adjoining the Temple of 
Humanity, there to hear from the priesthood perhaps one or 
two lectures on the doctrine of positivism." He is then to 



312 POSITIVE RELIGION : § 222 

undergo a novitiate of seven years, each of which is to 
have its specific topic, following, it seems, from " geometry 
up to morals," "the objective ascent which it took humanity 
so many centuries to accomplish." And then with one of 
those arbitrary dicta which more than anything else show 
at once the sublime self-reliance and the profound psycholo- 
gical ignorance which marked the founder of positivism, we 
have it announced, " during this scientific preparation the 
learner will be monotheistic" — in adolescence pantheistic, in 
maturity atheistic. Never did Philip II. with the Moriscoes, 
or Louis XIY. with the Huguenots, ever attempt so arbitrary 
a decree. The disciple is not to become a believer ; he 
is one. The initiation of an unconscious infant into the 
positive Church is to work upon him effects which the 
most extreme Christian sacramentarian never ascribed to 
baptism. The infant is declared not merely to be hypothe- 
tical^ and ecclesiastically a believer of the views which 
positivism prescribes for him, but to be so actually and 
potentially. He is not expected to be converted to them ; 
the supreme and infallible authority pronounces him to hold 
them without the choice of conversion. If he do not, he 
is either in an abnormal condition, requiring medical treat- 
ment, or in a state of moral treason, requiring penal disci- 
pline. 

b 2 . TJieir inadequacy. 

a 3 . In destroying human liberty. 

§ 222. No diversity of tastes or talents is permitted. 
Watt would not begin the study of mechanics until his 
eighteenth year, and must leave it finally six months after 



§ 223 ITS DESPOTISM. 313 

for poetry; Shakspeare, after six months at poetry, must be 
for six years absorbed in the exact sciences. 

Nor could there be belief, as there could be no faith. 
The positiyist creed is not propounded to be studied and 
accepted ; it is declared to be a part of the constitution of 
all men, as to which there can be no inquiry.* In the 
sciences, as well as in trade, there will be no competition, 
and hence no progress. Men will move forward, not in the 
eager race of a free rivalry, but as shackled slaves, with 
down-cast faces and sluggish limbs, each treading to the 
same beat. No explorer would press ahead of his fellows 
to the centre of the Arctic ice ; no adventurer push singly 
forward among untrodden wastes or barbarous realms ; no 
mechanic concentrate the life-energies of an acute and 
sagacious intellect to the consideration of a single point, 
which, however minute, might be necessary to the perfection 
of some great and essential improvement. 

§ 223. b 3m They substitute for a faith which, if false, is 
believed to be real, one which, if real, is believed to be false. 

It substitutes, in other words, for a believed truth, a con- 
fessed sham. What effect can playing at church have when 
all know the thing is but play, unless to impress the earnest 
with a mocking and indignant contempt, and the light with 
a withering skepticism ? What can produce a more pro- 
found sense of unreality than the consciousness that we are 
worshiping a Deity who is nothing but our own memory of 
the dead; who is avowedly a mere doll-providence, made 
and dressed for us by the priest, and handed to us to be 

* See here Sir W. Hamilton's remarks, quoted ante, § 216. 
21 



314 positive religion: §224-225 

pressed to the breast and nursed, in order to satisfy the 
agonizing craving for the Infinitely Lovely and Great, for 
which the bereaved soul pants with such tremendous reality ? 
What can so sicken and crush the heart, way-sore and sigh- 
ing for a peace to come in an eternal home where there will 
be no more worldliness, to be turned to gaze, not at the 
calm heights and sanctified hosts of Jerusalem the sacred, 
but to the labyrinths and intrigues of Paris the vain ? 

c 3 . They dwarf the human by degrading the divine. 

§ 224. The prisoner, cramped for years in a cell where his 
arms cannot be raised or his frame stretched, finds his mus- 
cles shrunk and his stature lessened. The soul expands or 
contracts with the object of its worship. Let that object 
be declared perfect, immutable, omnipotent, and the soul 
rises upward to it by an infinitude of steps. As it ascends, 
and finds the infinitude before it undiminished by the infini- 
tude it has passed, it becomes humbler as it becomes greater, 
more reverent and loving as it becomes more sublime. But 
the positivist's divinity claims no such infinite and soul- 
elevating attributes. It is not a reality, but a memory. It 
is but a blurred and faded picture of a procession of such of 
our fellow-mortals as the priesthood permits to be com- 
memorated. 

d 3 . They establish an absolute hierarchy, of all forms 
of government the most injurious. 

§ 225. Nothing, we may now be well permitted to as- 
sume, is so open to corruption, is so likely to reach and 
embitter even the most secret fountains of human happiness, 
and to trample on the conscience as well as the body, as a 
priesthood invested with unchecked powers. That such 



§ 226 buckle's modification. 315 

powers, beyond any precedent, are vested in the positivist 
hierarchy, will be seen on noticing the following points : — 

They have an arbitrary control over the treasury. 

They are the sole expounders of a law which claims to 
reach all points of conduct, and which pretends, not 
merely to be a statute, to be obeyed when announced, 
but to be a part of each man's internal constitution, 
obedience to which, announced or unannounced, is to 
be exacted under the severest penalties. 

They create, by consecrating the dead, at once the God 
to be worshiped, and the heaven to be sought. 

They are the sole educators of the people, and the 
supreme task-masters who are to determine at what, 
where, and how each man is to work. 

d. Positivism as modified by mr. buckle. 

§ 226. Mr. Buckle, so far as we can draw his views as a 
system from the very remarkable volume which is now the 
only avowed product of his pen,* accepts and teaches 
Comte's theory of positive law with the following modifica- 
tions : — 

Comte, at least in his late writings, insists that ecclesias- 
tical authority and a derivative creed, are essential to com- 
plete social development. Mr. Buckle considers the first 
always mischievous, and declares that no religion is of value 
that is not the spontaneous product of the believer's intel- 



* History of Civilization in England. By Henry Thomas Buckle. 
Vol. i. From the second London edition. New York: D. Apple- 
ton & Co., 1858. 



316 positivism: §226 

lect. The former makes the sanction of religion external 
and prescriptive ; the latter makes it subjective and volun- 
tary. Each is strongly tinged by his national ties — the first 
admiring France and Roman Catholicism, the latter Eng- 
land and Protestantism, as the better types of political and 
ecclesiastical development. Each rejects a divine revelation, 
but they differ in their proposed substitute — the one provid- 
ing a creed to be announced by an absolute hierarchy, the 
latter a sentiment to be evolved by the believer himself. 

Comte recognizes a variety of agencies by which antece- 
dents are connected with sequences ; Mr. Buckle but one, 
intellect ; though in this respect, as will presently be seen, 
his incidental teaching differs widely from his direct. 

Comte's basis for induction includes almost every branch 
of human knowledge, except metaphysics and psychology, 
which he rejects ; Mr. Buckle avowedly, at least, confines 
himself to statistics. 

Mr. Buckle's argument, when analyzed, falls into the fol- 
lowing positions : — 

The actions of men are produced, not by their volitions, 
but by their antecedents. 

These antecedents, which in this sense may be treated as 
law, are to be collected from statistics. 

The philosophical office of history, therefore, is to classify 
these statistics so as to be able to announce these laws. 

These points may be considered in the above order, taking 
first that which treats human action as dependent, not on 
volition, but on antecedents. 

Now here we must not confound Mr. Buckle's position 
with that of the necessitarians, in the controversy just 



§ 226 buckle's modification. 31 T 

noticed.* The last-mentioned thinkers consider the neces- 
sity acting on man to be moral, not material. The forces 
that bear on him, they hold to be very different from 
those which bear on matter. To man there always re- 
mains cJioice. He yields, often, it is true, as an inferior to 
his superior's influence, but always voluntarily. On the 
other hand, Mr. Buckle makes mind the subject of law in 
the same sense as is matter. Freedom of will he utterly 
and vehemently rejects. The position that consciousness 
proves this freedom, he meets by denying the competency of 
consciousness to speak on the subject at all. He admits, 
it is true, that consciousness thus speaks, but he declares 
that consciousness is not trustworthy. But is not this 
objection untenable from its very generality, in the same 
way that a similar objection to a witness in a common law 
court would at once be overruled by the judge on the ground 
that it indicates no specific disability ? "I object to con- 
sciousness as a witness," says Mr. Buckle, "because it is 
liable to err." But as this is an objection to all testimony, 
it is an objection to no testimony. The unimpeached tes- 
timony of concurrent consciousness can no more be rejected 
on this ground than can the unimpeached testimony of con- 
current by-standers, on the ground of a similar liability to 
error. 

Again, the fallacy of this position may be demonstrated 
through its consequences. If law acts on mind as on mat- 
ter, why is the man who shoots another with a gun any more 
culpable than the gun itself? The Duke of Wellington 

* See ante, §114. 
21* 



318 buckle's scheme : §227 

once told a story, as illustrating the distinction between 
moral and physical courage, of a soldier who was trembling 
on the battle-field. "You are afraid," said one of his com- 
rades. " If you were half as much so," was the reply, 
"you would long since have run away." The more wary of 
the positivist philosophers, as they stand trembling over 
this very danger, might well apply the same remark to the 
dashing young volunteer who prances so gaily up to a mine 
so fatal. Did he know as much, he would be as timid as 
themselves in attempting to reconcile morality with posi- 
tivism. But he does not, and he achieves the result by throw- 
ing morality overboard altogether. It is of no account, 
he substantially tells us ; it is only a superannuated agency, 
incapable of moving itself, and therefore of moving others. 
Mankind in the aggregate, he announces, are not in the least 
affected by moral principles; why then trouble ourselves 
about them ? Morals are stationary ; and hence, like a fort 
which when once passed by an invading fleet, only wastes its 
powder by firing its guns ; morality may be permitted to dis- 
charge the slow thunder of its oracles without exciting more 
than the smiles of that philosophy which has passed out of 
its reach. Intellect is now the only motive power of the 
human race ; morals have long since been laid on one side. 
§ 22*7. Now in one sense, Mr. Buckle is right in his posi- 
tion, though it is a sense fatal to his whole theory. Morals, 
it is true, are stationary ; but they are stationary in the same 
way as the water-tanks which are placed along a railway. 
They are, it is true, permanent, and are supplied by one and 
the same element. They nevertheless are essential to the 
motive energy of the train. Intellect is in this sense the 



§22*7 "MORALS STATIONARY." 319 

mere conduit of morals. It resorts to them for a force, and 
at its best serves merely as the agent, or acts as the con- 
ductor, by which that force is applied. Hence it is that the 
fact that morals are " stationary," is no reason why they do 
not influence mankind. For they are the eternal and immu- 
table principles of right and wrong, applying themselves to 
each juncture with specific and appropriate energy, pro- 
nouncing their decision on each new combination of circum- 
stances in the same way that the common law, while its 
dogmas remain the same, gives its impulse to, and pronounces" 
its judgment on, each contingency that arises. Thus the 
common law, from its stationary base, supplies the energies 
by which at one time the watchfulness of the sailor is 
sharpened, at another the skill of the ship-builder refined, 
at another the zeal of the mechanic stimulated. It says to 
the capitalist, " You I hold responsible for your employees' 
negligence;" to the machinist, "you for your machine's 
defects." So it is with morals. While stationary, they 
pronounce from time to time decrees on each issue that 
arises in the educationary advance of our race. Thus 
toleration of the opinions of others is an eternal principle 
of morals, and is written in the New Testament ; and yet its 
application to the successive stages of human history has 
been from time to time delayed, until those stages require its 
action. First, it is limited to mere oral divergencies, gua- 
ranteeing, in all matters not touching the peace of civil 
society, freedom of speech. Then, as the printing-press is 
introduced, it imposes on the printer a range of duties 
specially belonging to his office, and it imposes on govern- 
ment another range. So it is with the precept to love our 



320 buckle's scheme : § 22 Y 

neighbor as ourselves, which develops a series of progres- 
sive duties as our relations expand ; giving us one class of 
obligations to the family, and others to each near social or 
political interest that may from time to time spring up .;• e.g. 
children over-worked in factories, the outcasts of a large 
city, the victims of pestilence or oppression in a foreign 
land. Then again these duties are pushed on, as obstacles 
arising from ignorance cease to exist, giving us, for instance, 
the successive ameliorations of the penal code, arising 
from the removal of the once prevalent conviction of the 
political necessity of severe punishments. So with regard 

to imprisonment for debt.* 

Now in cases such as these, the fact that "morality is 
stationary," does not diminish either the energy of its motive 
power, or the precision with which it decides each issue 
that successively advances. So it is with the doctrinal 
truths of the New Testament. They are absolute and im- 
mutable. They cannot " develop." They act on the human 
character, however, with a power wonderfully expansive and 
adaptative. They may be listened to a thousand times 
without making any impression. Then often suddenly and 
without any assignable cause, they become illuminated with 
an awful and alarming meaning. The soul is agitated to its 
centre by this strange phenomenon, — truths at once sta- 
tionary and yet so inexorably aggressive. Then comes con- 
viction, and then, in God's pleasure, conversion. But the 
process does not stop here. The work of sanctification is 
progressive. The Christian discovers new beauties- each 

* See ante, \ 100. 



§ 22? "RELIGION STATIONARY." 321 

day in those stationary truths.* Perhaps his last breath 
may testify that even his dying hour revealed in them a new 
depth and fullness. For the oracles of God, immutable and 
perfect as they be, speak not in one complete burst of sym- 
phony, at a single swell possessing and entrancing the soul 
with their entire melody, but in a series of notes, unequal, 

* Dean Trench illustrates this point very beautifully in his " Hul- 
sean Lecture on the Development of Scripture." Take the following 
extract: — "Truth, once given, has only gradually revealed itself; 
how the history of the Church, the difficulties, the trials, the strug- 
gles, the temptations in which it has been involved, have interpreted 
it to its own records, brought out their latent significance, and caused 
it to discover all which in them it had ; how there was much written 
for it there as in sympathetic ink, invisible for a season, yet ready 
to flash out in lines and characters of light, whenever the appointed 
day and hour had arrived. So that in this way the Scripture has 
been to the Church as their garments to the children of Israel, which, 
during all the years of their pilgrimage in the desert, waxed not old, 
yea, according to rabbinical tradition, kept pace and measure with 
their bodies, growing with their growth, fitting the man as they had 
fitted the child, and this, until the forty years of their sojourn in the 
wilderness had expired. Or, to use another comparison which may 
help to illustrate our meaning : Holy Scripture thus progressively 
unfolding what it contains, might be likened fitly to some magnificent 
landscape on which the sun is gradually rising, and ever as it rises 
is bringing out one headland into light and prominence, and then 
another ; anon kindling the glory-smitten summit of some far moun- 
tain, and presently lighting up the recesses of some near valley 
which Jaad hitherto abided in gloom, and so traveling on till nothing 
remains in shadow, no nook nor corner hid from the light and 
heat of it, but the whole prospect stands out in the clearness and 
splendor of the brightest noon." 



322 buckle's scheme : § 228 

sometimes almost inarticulate, often not interpreted till long 
after, not till perhaps some great sorrow or trial required 
their aid. In this view, morality, as well as religion, may 
be likened to an engine stationed at a mountain -top to draw 
up a train from below. Progress is through it, to it. The 
traveler in the valley at first sees it not, as he finds himself 
gliding upward on the inclined plane. Gradually, however, 
as he approaches, and as trees and rocks are passed, the 
motive power grows into view. So it is with stationary truths 
of religion and ethics. They draw us to themselves, and as 
they draw, they unfold, not because they come nearer to us, 
but because we get nearer to them. 

§ 228. The second position on which Mr. Buckle relies 
is, that general laws governing human volition are to be 
discovered from statistical observation. 

This may be illustrated as follows : — In a particular city 
there were twenty burglaries year before last ; there were 
twenty-one last year ; there will be twenty-two the next. 
If a man, therefore, is brought up charged with this crime, 
we ought to say to him, " My friend, I am sorry that the lot 
happened to fall on you, though as it was necessary it should 
fall on some one in order to make up our requisite number 
of burglars, you are not to blame yourself." 

Now it is enough for the present, to notice one fatal flaw 
in this theory of the power of statistics to resolve the con- 
tingencies of the future. It rests upon what is popularly 
called the doctrine of chances ; and it assumes that as such 
a crime must necessarily occur, the event overrules, when it 
does occur, the free will of the agent. Now it will require 
but a moment's glance to show the absurdity of this. One 



§228 POWER OP "CHANCE." 323 

hundred balls are placed in a bag. One is white, the others 
black. jSTow when the bag is shaken so that a particular ball 
drops out, the result is not chance, but the peculiar combi- 
nation of forces on the ball that drops. If the balls be 
replaced in exactly the same position, and the bag be shaken 
exactly in the same way, then precisely the same ball will 
be thrown out again. There is no " chance" at all that any 
given ball, unacted on by such special impulses, will be 
thrown out once in a given number of times. So there is 
no "chance" that one out of a given number of innocent 
men will commit the above-mentioned burglary. The one 
who commits it will be he who is guided to the act by the 
forces of his own will. 

Take also the position that each burglary that is com- 
mitted diminishes the probability of a second, there being a 
less number thus required to make up the requisite average. 
Now it is true, that if out of the bag we take ten of the 
black balls, the " chances" against the white are now eighty- 
nine to one, instead of, as before, ninety-nine to one. When 
the whole of the ninety-nine black balls are taken out, then 
we may be sure that the white ball will come next. But if 
we keep the proportions of the balls the same, by returning 
to the bag those drawn out, then we may draw black balls 
forever, without increasing the probability of drawing the 
white. So when the number of white balls is indefinite, 
then no calculation can be made at all. Yet it is on such a 
calculation that Mr. Buckle rests when he makes the con- 
duct of one individual to be governed by the question, 
whether or no by the conduct of others the requisite annual 



324 buckle's scheme : § 228 

quota of crime has been contributed by the community at 
large. 

Mr. Buckle's last point is drawn from the two former, 
and is that which more particularly concerns his credit as a 
historian. The philosophical office of history, he holds, is 
so to classify the objective phenomena which make up 
human conduct as to be able to exhibit the laws by which 
moral agency is governed. No history is trustworthy which 
introduces other factors than this into its calculation. 

Now I may remark that this destroys Mr. Buckle's own 
sources of information. All prior historians, he tells us, 
are in error, because they mixed up volition with pheno- 
mena. And yet, as Mr. Buckle's very copious notes abund- 
antly show, it is from these prior historians that he derives 
almost his whole material. But, after all, phenomena — in 
other words, what a man does — form a very imperfect 
index to human character. Let us take that period, for 
instance, in Louis Napoleon's life, in which he landed at 
Boulogne, with a small squad of amateur soldiers and a 
tame eagle, which was to light upon the banner of the 
expectant emperor in such a way as to excite the supersti- 
tion and awaken the enthusiasm of the French. Suppose 
death had followed this adventure, would not the pheno- 
menal historian pronounce this most reticent, subtle, and 
profound of statesmen, to be a weak and babbling charlatan ? 

One of the results of this erroneous and low method of 
generalization has been already noticed.* It substitutes 
the memoranda of passengers, as to the time of arriving of 

* See ante, § 213. 



§ 228 BLUNDERS IN FACT. 325 

particular trains, for the time-table issued by the supreme 
hand that directs the motive power. The former are framed 
from loose notes drawn by memory from data which an acci- 
dent or detention would overthrow ; the latter controls the 
results rather than is controlled by them, and approaches to 
perfection as the authority that promulgates it approaches 
constancy and omnipotence. Now Mr. Buckle, in making up 
his philosophy, not only confines himself to the merely ob- 
servational sources of information, but among these he re- 
jects all that are psychological, or are based on personal 
experience, and takes merely those that arise from outside 
human calculation. How unreliable his conclusions become, 
we can judge by taking a proposition which he exhibits 
with the greatest complacency, as forming one of the most 
important of the discoveries of the new philosophy : " The 
number of marriages annually contracted," he tells us, "is 
determined, not by the temper and wishes of individuals, but 
by large general facts, over which individuals can exercise 
no authority. * * Instead of having any connection 
with personal feelings, they are simply regulated by the 
average earnings of the great mass of the people : so that 
this immense social and religious institution is not only 
swayed, but is completely controlled, by the price of food 
and by the rate of wages."* Here he leaves out, (1) Di- 
vine appointment, and (2) human inclination ; the latter 
involving the most potent of passions — affection, love, 
sexual instinct, desire for home, and hope of offspring. 
The specific blunders of Mr. Buckle on questions of fact, 

* Buckle's Hist, of Civ., vol. i. p. 28; Appleton's ed. 



326 buckle's positivism : § 228 

are almost numberless. Ordinarily speaking, such errors 
might be passed by with but a slight notice. With him, 
however, mistakes of "statistics" become perversions of 
principle. He relies for his laws on his facts. How care- 
less he is in collecting the latter, will be seen from the fol- 
lowing instances : — 

a 1 . " All the great sculptors come from Spain and Italy."* 
Now except Canova, no great sculptors came from Italy, 
and Spain is destitute of this kind of genius. Thorwaldsen, 
Chantrey, Crawford, Powers, Danneker, are of northern 
blood. 

b\ The French Calvinistic ministers "were insignificant 
priests." Mr. Buckle can find no one of them entitled to 
historical notice. So, however, do not think the historians 
of France. Among these "priests" we find some of the 
most potent intellects of the age, e.g. Daniel Chamier, whose 
discussion with Father Cotton, before Henry IV., is still a 
master-piece of controversial skill ; and Samuel Bochart, of 
whom Bayle (good authority with Mr. Buckle) says : " He 
was one of the most learned men in the world. But his 
knowledge, vast as it was, was not his principal quality ; he 
had a modesty infinitely more estimable than all his science. 
So he enjoyed his glory in complete tranquillity." With 
these rank Pierre Dumoulin, Andrew Rivet. David Blondel, 
Drelincourt, Daille, P. du Bosc, Ancillon, and Claude, and in 
later days Yinet, Monod, and D'Aubigne. With equal nar- 
rowness of information, Mr. Buckle excludes from the lead- 



* This is used as a main support of a law of climate. 



§ 228 BLUNDERS IN FACT. 32? 

ing minds of Scotland, in the present century, Chalmers, 
Keid, and Campbell. 

c\ Sir Thomas Brown began, according to Mr. Buckle, who 
finds in this another "law," a believer in witches and "de- 
veloped " into a disbeliever. In point of fact, the truth is 
just the reverse. 

d\ Owen is ranked with " Chilling worth and Hales," and 
" Hobbes and Glanville," as enforcing the same contempt for 
tradition, and the same resolution to scorn the High-Church 
yoke. This is a most remarkable jumble. Owen was an 
intolerant Calvinist ; Hales the loosest of Armenians. Hales 
was promoted by Laud ; Owen ejected by Laud's successors. 
In one thing, however, they would unite, and that is an in- 
dignant surprise at being placed in the same category with 
"Hobbes and Grlanville." 

e 1 . This century is declared to have presented nothing in 
"the English tongue, in any department of theological scho- 
larship, which is of value, and makes a mark on the age." 
For this, Theodore Parker is cited, as the "high authority;" 
thus disposing of Chalmers, Coleridge, Campbell, Whately, 
McCosh, Buchanan, Trench, Arnold, Stuart, Hodge, and 
Dwight. Then comes a dashing assertion as to the general 
increase of skepticism, for which assertion, so far as concerns 
the United States, we have the single authority of " Combe's 
ISTotes on the United States."* 

f\ " The historical value of the writings of Moses is aban- 
doned by all enlightened men, even among the clergy them- 
selves." To support this absurdly erroneous assertion, we 

* As to the incorrectness of this, see ante, § 206, 209, 210. 



328 buckle's positivism : § 228 

are pointed to two cases : Dr. Arnold, who reconsidered the 
whole question before the close of his life, and Mr. Baden 
Powell, who, latitudinarian though he be, is an accredited 
professor in Oxford, and has prepared for the Cyclopedia of 
Dr. Kitto (himself irreproachably orthodox) a series of 
papers for the purpose of accommodating the Mosaic re- 
cord to the present condition of science. That he has done 
this with a sufficient regard to the plenary inspiration of the 
text, is not pretended. And yet Mr. Powell, even in the 
approach he makes to Mr. Buckle's views, is repudiated by 
almost the entire Christian Church. It may be safely said 
that among the many thousand clergy of orthodox creeds, 
there will not be one who confesses an acquiescence in 
Mr. Buckle's views. 

g 1 . "That the system of morals propounded in the New 
Testament contained no maxim which had not been previously 
enunciated, and that some of the most beautiful passages in 
the apostolic writings are quotations from Pagan authors, is 
well known to every scholar. * * To assert that Chris- 
tianity communicated to man moral truths previously un- 
known, argues, on the part of the asserter, either gross 
ignorance or wilful fraud." Now here is a fair specimen of 
Mr. Buckle's accuracy and temper. The only quotations in 
the apostolic writings from " Pagan authors," are Acts xvii. 
28, " For we are also his offspring;" 1 Cor. xv. 33, "Evil 
communications corrupt good manners;" and Tit. i. 12, 
u The Cretians are always liars." Now each of these quota- 
tions was used by St. Paul as an argumentum ad hominem, 
for the purpose of showing that even his adversaries would 
concede a preliminary point in his argument, and neither is 



§ 228 BLUNDERS IN FACT. 329 

distinguished by any particular literary beauty. Mr. Buckle 
may excuse his blunder in this respect by his want of biblical 
knowledge, but this certainly will not excuse the temper with 
which he denounces those who do not agree with him. 

h\ " Not only Necker, but also Rousseau, were born in Ge- 
neva, and drew their earliest ideas from that great nursery of 
the Calvinistic theology." Necker, we are told, was "noto- 
riously a rigid Calvinist," and so, we are to presume, was 
Rousseau. Now the ideas which Necker drew from Geneva 
were anything but rigidly Calvinistic ; and Geneva, instead 
of then being the " nursery" of Calvinism, was its grave. 
Mr. Buckle is fond of quoting from D'Alembert, and cites 
him profusely. Had D'Alembert been consulted on this oc- 
casion, Mr. Buckle would have learned, from no less accessi- 
ble and obvious an article than that on Geneva in the French 
Encyclopedic, that "all the religion that many of the minis- 
ters of Geneva have is a complete Socinianism, rejecting 
everything called mystery, and supposing that the first prin- 
ciple of a true religion is to propose nothing to be received 
as a matter of faith which strikes against reason." Necker 
was born in 1732. The Encyclopedic was prepared in 
1145-52, at the very. time Necker was drawing his "earliest 
ideas." The "company of pastors," by whom vacancies in 
the pastoral charges were filled, then avowedly made their 
appointments from rationalists. Voltaire tells us that in 
Geneva, at this time, he did not know a single Calvinist. 
Yet the "rigid Calvinism" of Geneva, at this time, is a 
"fact" which is an essential item in the calculations by which 
one of Mr. Buckle's most important laws is educed. 
28* 



330 fatalism : § 229-230 



CHAPTEE III. 



FATALISM. 



§ 229. This topic, in its general bearings, is a natural 
sequence of that just considered, as well as of those to be 
presently noticed. If we are controlled by a system of 
positive law, general as well as specific, such as holds the 
follower of Comte ; if we are but constituent members in one 
great aggregate total of cosmical life, without the capacity 
of motion except in obedience to the common impulse, as 
holds the pantheist ; if we are the mere evolutions or scin- 
tillations of an organic growth, as hold the advocates of 
physiological development, then we are the subjects of an 
arbitrary code, natural or supernatural, which excludes the 
agency of either special providence or individual will. It 
is proposed, however, in the present chapter, to consider 
fatalism as a distinct scheme of unbelief, separate from the 
several theories in which it is involved. In this view, let us 
notice, — 

a. The a priori probability that the system which 

AN ALL-WISE AND ALL-POWERFUL GOVERNOR WOULD ADOPT 
FOR THE MORAL EDUCATION OF CREATURES UNDER PROBATION 
WOULD BE A MIXED ONE OF GENERAL LAWS AND OF SPECIAL 
ADAPTATIONS. 

§ 230. Let us take in view the given factors of a wise 



§ 230 A PRIORI IMPROBABLE. 331 

and Divine Ruler on the one hand, and of man, in his present 
state, as a subject of probation, on the other. Let us 
imagine ourselves about to lay down a system of govern- 
ment for a colony of creatures, constructed like ourselves, on 
some distant planet. We see on the one hand, that it is 
important to cultivate in them habits of fixed industry, of 
patience, of energy, of social and domestic affection, of in- 
dividual integrity. We see on the other hand, that it is 
equally important to generate in them submission under 
unexpected casualties, — hopefulness which a foreknowledge 
on their part of disappointments to come would destroy, — 
close dependence on and affection for the government that 
provides for them, so that the graces of humanity and of 
faith, might grow. How would we provide for this ? The 
answer is, by a system of general laws ; e.g. those of the 
seasons, which wheel round in their unvarying cycles, broken 
by special adaptations, such as those which particular rains, 
freshets, and tides, bring to bear on the husbandman's art. 

Suppose that we had a system of general laws only, and 
those foreannounced. Not only the seasons, let us suppose, 
move on in their recognized order, but every rain by which 
a crop is to be washed away, every freshet by which a vil- 
lage is to be inundated, every season of peculiar benignity 
and fruitfulness, every blight which would render labor use- 
less, is known beforehand. Where would we find that hardy 
industry which, in providing against the contingencies of 
disaster, and facing its reality, does so much to the develop- 
ment of the courage, the endurance, the self-reliance, the 
energy of our race ? In those climates where we find the 
uniformity of the seasons most marked, either by a cold and 



332 fatalism : § 231 

rigid torpor, or by a regular and prodigal fructification, we 
shall observe the greatest lethargy and the most entire sub- 
ordination of the spiritual and intellectual to the animal. 
But if in addition to this, misfortunes should move toward 
us equally heralded in advance, would not the paralysis be 
almost complete ? Greatly indeed would present happiness 
be abridged, and present energy cramped, and present sor- 
row intensified, if the future were known. Who, in looking 
back at any of the great calamities which have struck him, — 
let him take the sharpest and most stunning shock of his 
life, — but will say, "had I known this, I never would have 
prepared that home; I never would have opened its 
door ; I never would have entered at all on that train of 
business ; I never could have enjoyed, even for a moment, 
sweet intercourse with that friend, had I seen the hearse 
that stood outside." Yet it is to this discipline that the 
heart owes its best training for immortality. If then, we 
are, even with our limited capacity, planning a training 
school for moral agents, conditioned as ourselves, would we 
rest the government of that school on a system of arbitrary, 
universal, all-penetrating, all-directing laws, and those laws 
to be preannounced ? 

§ 231. On the other hand, let us suppose that a govern- 
ment should be established in which no general laws are laid 
down, but in which each case is determined as it arises. 
Take, for instance, the unexpectedness of the action of such 
government, resulting in the inability of the subject to un- 
derstand what measures to take to provide against the future. 
As an illustration of this, notice the condition of Rome 



§ 231 A PRIORI IMPROBABLE. 333 

under Tiberius, one scene in which is thus sketched by De 
Quincey : — 

" At midnight an elderly gentleman suddenly sends round 
a message to a select party of noblemen, rouses them out of 
bed, and summons them instantly to his palace. Trembling 
for their lives from the suddenness of the summons, and 
from the unseasonable hour, and scarcely doubting that by 
some anonymous delator they have been implicated as par- 
ties to a conspiracy, they hurry to the palace — are received 
in portentous silence by the ushers and pages in attendance 
— are conducted to a saloon, where (as in everywhere else) 
the silence of night prevails, united with the silence of fear 
and whispering expectation. All are seated, all look at 
each other in ominous anxiety. Which is accuser ? Which 
the accused ? On whom shall their suspicion settle, — on 
whom their pity ? All are silent — almost speechless — and 
even the current of their thoughts is frost-bound by fear. 
Suddenly the sound of a fiddle or a viol is caught from 
a distance — it swells upon the ear — the steps approach — and 
in another moment in rushes the elderly gentleman, grave 
and gloomy as his audience, but capering about in a frenzy 
of excitement. For half an hour he continues to perform 
all possible evolutions of caprioles, pirouettes, and other 
extravagant feats of activity, accompanying himself on the 
fiddle ; and, at length, not having once looked at his guests, 
the elderly gentleman whirls out of the room in the same 
transport of emotion with which he entered it ; the panic- 
struck visitors are requested by a slave to consider them- 
selves as dismissed : they retire ; resume their couches : — the 
nocturnal pageant has ' dislimned' and vanished ; and on 



334 fatalism : § 232 

the following morning, were it not for their concurring tes- 
timonies, all would be disposed to take this interruption of 
their sleep for one of its most fantastic dreams. The elderly- 
gentleman who figured in this delirious pas seul — who was 
he ? He was Tiberius Caesar, king of kings, and lord of the 
terraqueous globe."* 

§ 232. Now what we would call for, a priori, to meet 
both these difficulties, is a government with laws enough in 
it to invoke energy and foresight, and with enough special 
direction in it to produce watchfulness and a sense of de- 
pendence on its Divine Head.f 

Let us see, then, how far we find this system of govern- 
ment — this combination of general laws with special provi- 
dences — carried out in the moral discipline of man. As to 
this point, there is, I apprehend, no difficulty. Upon the 
distant and general horizon the machinery of general laws 
moves like clock-work; e.g. the movements of the stars, 
the waxing and waning of the moon, with its consequent 
influence on the tides, the aggregate of rain falling in each 
year. But as we approach man, we become conscious of an 
atmosphere through which general laws cannot penetrate. 
It would seem as if moral agency was thus coated with an 
armor which defies the action of that inexorable code by 
which all the physical universe is enthralled. The nearer 
these general laws approach man, the more are they re- 



* De Quincey's Caesars, p. 129. 

f See this question ably discussed in Bishop Potter's Sermon on 
the Immutability of Natural Laws; Phil. Lectures on Evidences, 
p. 127. 



§ 233-234 A PRIORI IMPROBABLE. 335 

fracted and repelled. We cannot tell when any particular 
tide will rise to inundate the city docks, nor when a freshet 
will lift the river over the levee, nor when a premature frost 
will blight the crop. The closer we come to man, the more 
does the absolute yield to the fortuitous ; i.e. to the spe- 
cial as distinguished from the general direction of G-od.* 

§ 233. It would seem, therefore, that the government of 
the world is a mixed one of general laws and special adap- 
tations, f The existence of the first element needs no proof. 
Skepticism almost uniformly asserts it, and Christianity finds 
no reason to meet it with a denial. The second proposition, 
however, that of a special providence, is met by the natural- 
ist with a fierce hostility, and by the nominal Christian with 
practical unbelief. The following points may be noticed as 
serving to prove its existence. 

§ 234. a 1 . God's constancy and dignity. 

If God cared enough for the world to create it, is it con- 
sistent with His infinite goodness and grandeur to suppose 
that when created He would desert it, and retire, like le bon 
Dieu of the French drama, to listen from the stage-box of 
an otiose and philosophic ease to the ceaseless wails of His 
own creatures struggling in agony before Him — seeking in 
their blindness the Infinite, and as they seek, falling, blinded 
as they are by a supernal malignant power, gashed and 



* See ante, \ 89, 129; post, \ 241. 

f Observe in this the remarkable analogy with the distinction be- 
tween the common law and equity systems. "Equity," says Grotius, 
11 is the correction of that xoherein the common law, by reason of its uni- 
versality, is deficient." 



336 fatalism : § 235 

wounded to the earth? "Can it be degrading for Him to 
act on that, however insignificant, which it did not degrade 
Him to create."* 

§ 235. b\ His fatherhood. 

Heathen and Christian devotion unite in seeing in Him 
not merely the God, but the Father. Can we, in conformity 
with this conception, suppose Him to desert the home of 
His watchful care and love? "We ask of a father regard, 
in the first place, to the moral welfare of his children; we 
ask a rule and regimen which will contribute to form charac- 
ter, to ennoble sentiment, to develop self-control, and nerve 
with spiritual power. And we feel that this needs not only law, 
but the administration of law ; not only rules, but influences ; 
and not only these, too, but such changes, from time to time, 



* Young's Mysteries of Good and Evil, p. 63. 

"That which God has deigned to make, He "will condescend to 
care for ; and that which He has made in all its minutest details, He 
may, without derogation from His infinite majesty, continue to sus- 
tain and govern even in its least members and motions. The instance 
chosen by our Lord is among the most light and impalpable of all 
objects connected with the human frame. Yet, under the glass of 
the microscopic anatomist, the single hair presents wonders of struc- 
ture and adaptation which no human hand can reproduce or imitate. 
Indeed, the further down we go into the interior recesses of nature, 
all invisible to the naked eye, the more amazing becomes the revela- 
tions of power, and skill, and goodness. So that the very antennas 
of the fly that annoys our slumber, the dust of the downy fruit, and 
the volatile pollen of the lily or the rose, awaken new adoration of 
Him who is maximns in minimis, greatest in that which seems least." 
(Alexander's Discourses, p. 75; New York, 1858.) 






§ 236 HOW DISPROVED. 33f 

that those rules can adapt themselves to emergencies created 
by the child himself in the use or in the abuse of his moral 
liberty."* 

§ 236. c\ Man 's universal sense. 

Where is prayer unrecognized ? And yet does not prayer 
rest on the assumption, that He who is supplicated can an- 
swer ? To the same effect speaks every temple, whatever 
may be its rites, wherever its site, or whenever it may have 
existed. These places of worship — from the cathedral to the 
Sunday-school room, from the Parthenon to the mound on 
which the Indian looks up to Grod, so universal that, where- 
ever man is, there are they — attest the equal universality of 
the belief in a special providence. And in this conviction 
even the philosopher shares, whenever, as in every great 
crisis in the affairs of men, philosophy fails, f 



* Bishop Potter, Phil. Lectures on Evidences, p. 133. 

j- "On this point let Dr. Franklin answer. No one will accuse 
him of superstition or of an undue regard of the supernatural. All 
will admit, that few men ever surpassed him as a shrewd observer of 
life and of human affairs, or as a profound inquirer after the causes 
and principles that lie at the bottom of great events. And what was 
his language in the Convention that sat in Philadelphia in 1787 to 
frame our Federal Constitution, when he rose to support his motion 
for daily prayers in that body ? 

"It must be remembered that weeks had elapsed without the Con- 
vention's having accomplished any part of its all-important work, 
and that irreconcilable differences seemed likely to defeat its pur- 
poses altogether. It was under these circumstances that Dr. Franklin 
introduced his resolution, and made the following remarks: — 'In the 
beginning of the contest with Britain,' said he, 'ivhen we were sensible 
29 



338 SPECIAL PROVIDENCE : § 23T 

d 1 . The analogy of answer to prayer, which may be 
taken as an extreme case of special providence, with other 
agencies by which, humanly speaking, the course of events 
is altered. 

§ 237. u I cannot believe," says the objector, " that the 
course of the world can be altered by the prayer of a feeble 

of danger, we had daily prayers in this room for the Divine protec- 
tion. Our prayers, sir, were heard, and they were graciously an- 
swered. All of us who were engaged in the struggle must have 
observed frequent instances of a superintending Providence in our 
favor. To that kind Providence we owe this happy opportunity of 
consulting in peace on the means of establishing our future national 
felicity. And have we now forgotten this powerful friend? or do 
we imagine that we no longer need His assistance ? / have lived, sir, 
a long time, [eighty -one years,) and the longer I live, the more convincing 
proofs I see of this truth, that God governs in the affairs of man. And, 
if a sparrow cannot fall to the ground without His notice, is it pro- 
bable that an empire can rise without His aid ? We have been 
assured, sir, in the sacred writings, "that except the Lord build the 
house, they labor in vain that build it." I firmly believe this ; and I 
also believe, that without His concurring aid, we shall succeed in 
this political building no better than the builders of Babel ; we shall 
be divided by our little partial local interests, our projects will be 
confounded, and we ourselves shall become a reproach and a by-word 
down to future ages. And, what is worse, mankind may hereafter, 
from this unfortunate instance, despair of establishing government 
by human wisdom, and leave it to chance, war, or conquest. I there- 
fore beg leave to move that, henceforth, prayers, imploring the assist- 
ance of Heaven and its blessing on our deliberations, be held in this 
assembly every morning before we proceed to business ; and that one 
or more of the clergy of this city be requested to officiate in that 
service.'" {Potter's Lectures on the Evidences, etc., p. 143.) 



§ 23 1 ITS PROBABILITY. 339 

child, or an ignorant old woman." ISTo one is more rigid in 
asserting the constancy of rational laws, in this respect, than 
Mr. Hume, when teaching metaphysics, and yet no one is 
more fertile in declaring the existence and effect of just such 
agencies than Mr. Hume, when writing history. An ignorant 
fisherman defeated the Spanish Armada by a trick. Another 
trick on the part of the Spanish Court led to the long sub- 
sequent introduction into the French marriage treaty of 
Charles I., of a clause which, by giving up the royal issue to 
their mothers' care during their childhood, consigned them 
to papacy and exile. The casual appearance at court of 
George Villiers, led to an ascendency which reduced James I. 
to vassalage, and brought Charles I. to the block. The 
unexpected presence of Mary in the chamber where Rizzio 
was slain, left on her then unborn son a taint which followed 
him through life, and which worked in him a degree of irre- 
solution, if not cowardice, which degraded royalty in Eng- 
land, and sacrificed Protestantism in Bohemia. Such are 
the threads which the subtle finger of the historian delights 
to follow, when showing how the slightest influences may 
apparently move the law. that controls human affairs. But 
if this be true, and if G-od be that supreme motive power, 
all philosophical objections to the efficacy of prayer are 
destroyed. 

e\ Hypotheses on which a special providence can be 
explained* 

* See as to use of Hypothesis in Theol., 2 Chalm. Nat. Theol., 
Const, ed., 314. 



340 SPECIAL providence : § 238 

§ 238. a 2 . By the assumption of a law based on angelic 
agency. * 

It may be assumed that, as in conformity with the divine 
scheme, creatures, lower in the scale of life than man, are 
employed in ministering to him, so, in equal subordination 
to God's law, creatures, higher than man may be so em- 
ployed. 

Putting aside the testimony of Scripture, the analogy of 
nature leads us to suppose that as below man there is a de- 
scending scale reaching down to the atom, so above man 
there is an ascending scale reaching forward to the absolute. 
"We have no reason to suppose that the gradation is sud- 
denly arrested just at the point where the animal and the 
spiritual are combined, "f If so, in what office can such ex- 
istences be better employed than in occupying toward the 
Divine Head, the same offices as the "fire and hail, snows 
and vapors, wind and storm, fulfilling His word ?" So thought 
Milton : — 

"His state is kingly, 
Thousands at his bidding speed, 
And post o'er land and ocean, without rest." 

If, however, these beings are thus employed, the analogy 
may be extended by supposing that they are employed in 
serving men. Archbishop Whately, the least sentimental of 
philosophers, draws this inference from the fact, that "as re- 
lates to the things of this world, we know that it is the ap- 

* See these points enumerated in 2 Buch. on Faith, p. 176. 
f Ibid., p. 185. 



§ 238 ITS PROBABILITY. 341 

pointment of Providence that men should be dependent on 
their fellow-men for various good offices, and, in many in- 
stances, for life itself. To minister to the distressed and 
afflicted, and to perform various other acts of kindness to our 
brethren, is among the duties most earnestly inculcated by our 
Lord and his apostles."* Or, to take the same analogy, 
as stated in the following lines, not- the less impressive 
from the exquisite delicacy of their diction : — ■ 

"I have seen mourners by the sick one's pillow; 

Theirs was the soft tone and the soundless tread, — 
When smitten hearts were drooping like the willow, 
They stood between the living and the dead. 

"And if my sight, by earthly dimness hindered, 
Beheld no hovering cherubim in air, 
I doubted not — for spirits know their kindred, — 
They smiled upon the viewless watches there. 

" There have been angels in the gloomy prison, 
In crowded halls, by the lone widow's hearth, 
And where they passed, the fallen have uprisen — 
The giddy paused, — the mourner's hope had birth." 

There is no more reason why we should refuse to recognize 
the services of angels, for fear of angel-worship, than we 
should the services of the winds and storms, for fear of Feti- 
chism. As created beings the members of neither are the 
subjects of worship, f 

* "Whately's Good and Evil Angels, p. 26. 

•f The scriptural prohibition is also absolute. See the argument 
forcibly stated in Whately's Good and Evil Angels, pp. 16, 17. 

On the subject of the special guardianship by angels much more 
29* 



342 SPECIAL PROVIDENCE : § 239 

b 2 . By the pre -arrangement of the laws of nature, so 
that in harmony with and subordination to them, prayer 
may be answered. 

§ 239. Prayer becomes in this way a general causal power, 



difficulty exists. Mr. Alford, in his cumbrous though elaborate and 
instructive commentary, has lately brought before the church, with 
peculiar positiveness, the doctrine, that to each individual there is 
assigned a specific guardian angel. This he mainly rests upon Matt, 
xviii. 10, where our blessed Lord tells us, " Take heed that ye despise 
not one of these little ones ; for I say unto you that in heaven their 
angels do always behold the face of my Father which is in heaven." 
And he goes so far as to intimate that we have ground to believe from 
Acts xii. 15, (where the disciples speak of Peter's " angel,") that guar- 
dian angels sometimes appear in the likeness of the individual him- 
self. So far is this theory carried by the Romanists, that authority 
not devoid of respectability has been found to countenance the su- 
perstition, that on occasions of peculiar solemnity, the guardian 
angels may assume the bodies of those over whom they watch, and 
give warning of some great impending calamity. Romish hagiology 
is full of cases, where the bodies of saints appear to their own sleep- 
ing vision, or to that of others, to give notice of approaching death. 
And the fathers, even the earliest and best of them, so far counte- 
nanced the doctrine as to occupy no small portion of their writings 
with expositions of the way in which these substitutionary appear- 
ances occur. 

Mr. Alford is not the only Protestant writer who espouses the same 
view. Dr. Chalmers, though only hypothetically, intimated, as is 
stated in the text, that there might be angelic messengers employed 
in the work of giving effect to prayer, though he refers rather to a 
general influence of the whole angelic body, than to a specific guar- 
dianship. 

Mr. Kingsley introduces to us angels, as engaged in conveying to 



§ 239 ITS PROBABILITY. 343 

with its particular results foreordained. It receives an an- 
swer, because it is a part of the Divine pre-arranged polity 
that it should. This, it may be said, is fatalism, but the 



us all the minor happinesses with which life is blessed — a sort of 
Kriss-Kringles or Brother Cheerybles of the skies. 

And in Stiers's " Words of the Lord Jesus," the author declares 
that not only is a guardian angel assigned to each child on its birth, 
but that when grieved away by sin, the angel is re-commissioned to 
attend the sinner on his regeneration. How deeply this feeling is 
wrought into the popular mind, Mercy's dream in the Pilgrim's Pro- 
gress, and Putsch's great picture of Satan playing chess with the 
young man for his soul, may testify. 

» Now let us pass from the poetry of interpretation to its sense. 
Calvin, whom, whatever we may think of his views on the great con- 
troversy which bears his name, we may agree with Hooker in holding 
as the gravest and wisest of commentators whom the Church, down 
to his own day, had known, when speaking of Matt, xviii. 10, says : 
"The view taken by some of this passage, as if it ascribed to each 
believer his own peculiar angel, is without support. For the words of 
Christ do not import, that one angel is in perpetuity attached to this 
person or that, and the notion is at variance with the whole teaching of 
Scripture, which testifies that angels encamp round about the righteous, 
and not to one angel alone, but to many has it been commanded, to 
protect every one of the faithful." (See Fairbairn's Hermeneutical 
Manual, p. 222.) This is almost in the same language repeated by 
Whitby, in a commentary, which, incorporated with those of Patrick 
and Lowth, has received the peculiar recommendation of that section 
of our Church to whom Calvin's distinctive views are the most dis- 
tasteful. "I think," says this acute critic, "that neither of these 
opinions (those imputing guardian angels, first to children, and then 
to the just,) hath any good foundation in the holy Scriptures; cer- 
tain it is, that in this place Christ saith not their ' angel,' but their 



344 ANSWER TO PRAYER : § 239 

same objection holds good to every action in which moral 
agency is involved. If it be an objection to prayer that 
there is no use in offering it, since its answer is already 

'angels' behold the face of God; nor says He, that these angels 
belong to all, but only to 'these little ones;' nor that they always do 
attend upon their persons, but that they 'stand before the face of 
God,' ready to receive His commands, either to help them in their 
exigencies, or punish those who injure them; hence then it follows, 
not that they have always an angel present with them, but only that 
angels in general are 'ministering spirits to them.' " 

It is not necessary to add anything in the way of critical commen- 
tary to these remarks. We may be permitted, however, assuming as 
we do with the great body of orthodox Anglican interpreters, that the 
theory of guardian angels is not called for by. the text, to show how 
in two respects it is liable to perversion. 

These are — 1st. The diminution of the mediatorial glory of Christ, 
and of the work of the Holy Spirit; and, 2d. The danger of angel- 
worship. In the Romish Church both of these consequences have 
followed, and not iilogically. For either the angels are involuntary 
mechanisms, or they are not. If the former, they can have no tute- 
lary functions. If the latter, and if specially assigned to individuals 
as their spiritual companions and guides, it is impossible for the 
yearning and sad heart of man, always craving comfort from above, 
not to seek to enter into their converse. If this does not end in Ro- 
manism, it will lead to Spiritualism. 

It should be observed, also, that "little ones" does not, as the sen- 
timentalists of our day suppose, refer to children, but to the disciples 
of our Lord; and secondly, "behold the face of my Father," etc., 
involves no intercessory power. It signifies, in oriental phrase, only 
a supremacy in the court of heaven. "I am Gabriel," says that 
angel, "who stands before God ;" and this in a case where it was a 
message alone that was delivered. So the Queen of Sheba speaks of 
Solomon's retinue: "Blessed are thy servants who stand always 
before thee." 



§ 240 HOW EXPLICABLE. 345 

secured by Divine ordination, it is equally an objection to 
sowing grain or plowing a field, that the crop will come 
without the effort. By this reasoning, petitions would be 
prevented, not only to an earthly potentate, but to an earthly 
friend. ]STor does the multitudinous variety and human fluc- 
tuating weakness of prayer deprive it of the aid of the same 
energy. "When men are the askers and men also are the 
givers, He can, amid all the caprices of human appetite and 
fancy, still uphold the regularities both of a moral and a na- 
tural economy."* Why not, then, in a system in which He 
is giver as well as hearer ?f 

c 2 . By a special connection between prayer and result 
as behveen cause and effect. 

§ 240. "The doctrine of the efficacy of prayer," says Dr. 
Chalmers, "but introduces a new sequence to the notice of 
the mind — whereas it seems to be quarreled with by philo- 
sophy, on the ground that it disturbs and distempers the 
regularity of all sequences. It may add another law of 
nature to those which have been formerly observed — but this 
surely may be done without invasion on the constancy of 
nature." Thus magnetism does not disturb the laws of 

* 2 Chal. Nat. Theol., p. 329. 

f It may be said, in order to reach the charge of fatalism, that 
foreknowledge, is, in this sense, but back history, and that human 
liberty and the contingency resulting from choice, are no more af- 
fected by history written before this event than they would be by his- 
tory written afterwards. In this view, while fatalism causes the event, 
foreknowledge is caused by it; the fact exists, not because it is pre- 
determined, — it is foreseen because it exists. This point has already 
been noticed. See ante, § 129-131. 



346 ANSWER TO PRAYER : § 241 

nature ; it only opens them to let itself in as an independent, 
but equally authorized and legitimate agency. 

dr. By pushing up the principle which governs the re- 
sults of prayer, until it passes above the boundary by 
which human observation is limited. 

§ 241. That there is such a boundary, may be shown both 
a priori and by induction. 

A priori, what course would we suppose a Divine and all- 
merciful Father, having in view the shortness of human life, 
would take, in order to enable that life to be most economi- 
cally and judiciously employed so as to subserve the object 
of probation ? 

We can answer this by inquiring what would be the policy 
of a judicious colonial secretary in drawing up a system of 
government for a colony about to settle in and improve a 
distant, and, as yet, unoccupied territory. "You are going," 
he would say, "to prepare farms to benefit yourselves, as 
well as to improve the soil. You are to get crops ready for 
a market, as well as to accommodate, if not to prepare a mar- 
ket for the crops. For this purpose, I give you all the practi- 
cal information you will really need. You have here a state- 
ment of the stock and staples best suited to your particular 
climate, and of the kind of culture by which the soil may be 
most effectually used. You have here a topographical sur- 
vey of the district in which you are particularly placed. It 
shows you how you can get your produce to the great river 
which runs a few miles off, and from that river to the sea. 
But it does not show you where that river finds its remotest 
source, nor does it indicate what are the influences, terres- 
trial and sidereal, by which that ocean is moved. If you 



§ 242 HOW EXPLICABLE. 341 

are surprised at this, I can give you a very good reason for 
it. You are here for a practical purpose, and you have no 
more than enough time than is necessary to enable that pur- 
pose to be achieved. You are therefore furnished with a 
pocket-map and an emigrant's manual, both in small com- 
pass. Were I to undertake to give you a chart of the entire 
universe, it would be too large to be carried, and if studied, 
would leave no room for the duties of farming, to perform 
which you are sent. Yours is a specific work, — the recla- 
mation of a wasted land, and the restoration to yourselves, 
whose infirmities, if not whose crimes, have made you the 
subjects of penal law, of those habits of industry and energy 
which form the most important safeguards to virtue and 
purity." 

§ 242. Analogous to this is the information man re- 
quires in his earthly probation. "I do not care to know 
about the causes of sin," said John Newton, "since I am 
told how to escape from it. " We are given, as it were, a 
topographical survey of the scene of our labors. That 
survey must end somewhere. If infinite, the great body of 
it would be not only useless for the immediate work we are 
sent to perform, but would be cumbrous and distracting. 
Even were it only to remind us what our specific duties 
are, it must, so far at least as its details are concerned, have 
its limits. There must be, therefore, if this analogy be cor- 
rect, some line above which human observation cannot pass. 
Below this line we may expect to find such knowledge as 
is practical and pertinent to the discharge of our actual 
duties; above it, such knowledge as is purely speculative, 
and, for our present purposes, useless. 



348 ANSWER TO PRAYER 5 § 243 

The inductive proof of this proposition is equally strong. 
Material agencies are governed by open and universal laws ; 
moral enter upon the sea of life with sealed letters, the con- 
tents of which the subordinate only knows by the result. 
The stars are moved by a mechanism whose long strokes 
and revolutions we can see, as they approach, at a century's 
distance ; God Almighty moves human destiny by His own 
finger, but conceals that finger behind an impenetrable cloud. 

§ 243. Science itself bears witness to these truths with an 
emphasis which increases as it searches more closely into the 
nervous and psychical centres. "If statistics are true, when 
applied to size and quantity," says an eminent French phy- 
sician, "they are no longer so, when relating to life and 
strength."* And M. Brierre de Boismont, in his work on 
Hallucinations, f declares that this presses on us the more 
strongly as "we advance in the consideration of the nervous 
system." Even Carlyle says: "The same uncertainty, in 
estimating present things and men, holds more or less in all 
times ; for in all times, even in those which seem most trivial, 
and open to research, human society rests on inscrutably 
deep foundations; which he is, of all others the most 
mistaken, who fancies he has explored to the bottom."% 
And Hegel, and this from a pantheistic stand-point, declares 
that, here at least, in the springs of human action, is an ele- 
ment which nothing but a Divine cause can explain. 



* M. Max Simon, L'Opinion Pteine du Mond; Union Medicale, 
2 Aout, 1851. 

f Phil, ed., p. 195. 

% Carlyle, Rev. on Voltaire, For. Quar. Rev., 1829. 



§ 243 MYSTERY ABOUT MAN. 349 

When we go into an examination of the incidents which 
make np individual history, the same principle is established. 
Take, for instance, the remarkable fact, that so large and 
undue a proportion of deaths occurs about daydawn.* 

* A late writer in the London Quarterly Review tells us, that out of 
two thousand eight hundred and eighty deaths which occurred within 
a given period, there was a division as to the hour too marked to be 
the result of what might he considered chance. If the proportion of 
deaths to hours were equal, one hundred and twenty deaths would 
occur in each hour. This, however, was by no means the case. 
"There were two hours in which the proportion was remarkably 
below this ; two minima, in fact — namely, from midnight to one 
o'clock, when the deaths were eighty-three per cent, below. From 
three to six o'clock in the morning, inclusive, and from three to 
seven o'clock in the afternoon, there is a gradual increase in the 
former of twenty-three and a half per cent, above the average, in 
the latter of five and a half per cent. The maximum of deaths is 
from five to six o'clock in the morning, when it is forty per cent, 
above the average; the next during the hour before midnight, when 
it is twenty-four per cent, in excess; a third hour of excess is that 
from nine to ten o'clock in the morning, being eighteen and a half 
per cent, above. From ten in the morning to three in the afternoon 
the deaths are less numerous, being sixteen and a half per cent, 
below the average, the hour before noon being the most fatal. From 
three o'clock in the afternoon to nine the deaths rise to five and a 
half per cent, above the average, then fall, from that hour to eleven p.m. , 
averaging six and a half per cent, below the mean. During the hours 
from nine to eleven o'clock in the evening, there is a minimum of six 
and a half per cent, below the average. Thus the least mortality 
is during the mid-day hours — namely, from ten to three o'clock; 
the greatest during early morning hours, from three to six o'clock. 
30 



350 ARBITRARY LAW : § 244 

§ 244. Now there may be a law on this point, so far as a 
collection of results may be entitled to that name, but we 
neither discover the principle on which the law is based, nor 
the cases to which it applies. So also with regard to the 
causes of death. Here is a topic to which science has 
devoted its peculiar scrutiny both to affect results and to 
collect information. Where, however, can we find any 
class of events which so entirely resist the inductive pro- 
cess ? So far as respects sanitary and moral influences, we 
learn enough to say that any violation of cleanliness or 
temperance, will be productive of injury to life. But when 
we come to examine the issues of life and death themselves, 
we will find that their threads are held by an unseen hand. 
Observe, as an illustration of this, the contrast between war, 
the most efficient human means of destroying life, and 
cholera, the greatest Divine scourge. In twenty-two years 
of war, as returned by the London Board of Health, there 
were 19,796 killed, being a yearly average of 899. In 
1848-9, there were no less than 12,180 persons killed by 
cholera in England and Wales alone. And yet of all 
agencies of death, war is that in which, in a human sense, 

About one-third of the total deaths were children under five years of 
age, and they show the influence of the latter more strikingly. At 
all hours, from ten o'clock in the morning until midnight, the deaths 
are at or below the mean ; the hours from four to five in the after- 
noon, and from nine to ten in the evening, being minima, but the 
hours after midnight being the lowest maximum; at all the hours 
from two to ten in the morning the deaths are above the mean, 
attaining their maximum at from five to six o'clock in the morning, 
when it is forty-five and a half per cent, above." 



§ 244 NOT AFFECTING MAN. 351 

the notion of law is the most completely developed, while 
the cause and conditions of cholera have defied all attempts 
at discovery. So it is with individual agencies. A frost, 
the first of the kind for fifty years, caused the destruction 
of the French army in Russia, and the overthrow of the 
empire of Napoleon I. A slight pebble on the road 
caused the death of William III. of England. An iceberg, 
floated by a casual current out of its path, destroys one 
steamer, the tooth of a rat another, the momentary negli- 
gence of an engineer a third ; a building falls and hundreds 
are crushed to death ; a vessel carried by mistake out of her 
course, introduces into a northern city a fever that kills 
thousands. Death, in a human sense the most important 
of events, is that, of all others, whose causes most defy sys- 
tematization. 

Or, take the facts so exultingly classified by Mr. Buckle, 
that the average number of undirected, of misdirected, and 
of missigned letters, runs upward with the advance of popu- 
lation. Here is a "law," undoubtedly, but it does not 
impinge on the freedom of the individual man.* The 
aggregate of misdirected letters may be calculated, but we 
cannot say who it will be by whom the next misdirected 
letter will be sent. Probation is incased in a coat of mail 
so impenetrable and so polished, that the shafts of general 
laws bound off from it without effecting a lodgment. 

From the reasoning which has just been given, we may 
conclude that the Almighty governs the moral universe in 

* See ante, \ 216-19. 



352 mind : § 245 

person, sitting in the darkness of His own council-chamber, 
while He directs the physical universe through the agency 
of fixed and published law. This view, if correct, relieves 
the doctrine of special providence of all real difficulty.* 

§ 245. The structure of the mind gives an additional 
strength to the view just stated. We judge from the short 
legs and heavy frame of one animal, that ij was shaped to 
browse on the rich and continuous meadow, or to wallow in 
the reedy lagoon. We judge from the slight figure and 
delicate, though sinewy limbs of another, that it was de- 
signed for mountain heights. Such are the conclusions we 
draw from the fragments of the rhinoceros or the gems- 
bok that we find in a cabinet of fossils. How is it with 
man ? Can we not judge of the limits of the field over 
which his mind is permitted to range from the structure of 
that mind itself ? 

Now on this point I know no higher psychological autho- 
rity than Locke ; a great and candid thinker, whose claims, 
for a time set aside under the brilliant though unsafe 
guidance of Cousin, f are now regaining even more than 

* See this question examined in connection with that of the origin 
of evil, ante, \ 129-131. See also \ 88. 

f It is one of the worst features of the eclecticism of this writer, 
that thinking rather rhetorically than philosophically, he gives us, 
not a harmonious reconciliation, but a scenic grouping of the con- 
spicuous points of the preceding schools. It is a French psycholo- 
gical drama, in which, with due regard to the unities of time and 
place, the personifications of prior speculations are brought together 
in such attitudes as to produce the greatest sensation. In such a 
company the homely bearing and russet sense of Locke scarcely 
fit him to play a part. 



§ 246 DISPROVING FATALISM. 353 

their former authority. " Men have reason," he says, u to 
be well satisfied with what God has thought fit for them, 
since he has given them, as St. Peter says, navra -pug Zwrjv 
xat ebffefieiav, whatsoever is necessary for the convenience 
of life and the information of virtue ; and has put within 
the reach of their discovery the comfortable provision for 
this life, and the way that leads to a better. How short 
soever their knowledge may be of a universal or perfect 
comprehension of whatever is, it yet secures their great 
concernments, that they have light enough to lead them to 
the knowledge of their Maker and the sight of their own 
duties. Men may find matter sufficiently to busy their 
heads and employ their hands with variety, delight, and 
satisfaction, if they will not boldly quarrel with their own 
constitutions, and throw away the blessings their hands are 
filled with because they are not big enough to grasp every- 
thing. * * * It will be no excuse to an idle and 
untoward servant, who would not attend his business by 
candlelight, to j)lead that he had not broad sunshine. The 
candle that is set up within us shines bright enough for 
all purposes." 

§ 246. It has been reserved, however, for Sir William 
Hamilton to demonstrate, with an unrivaled power both of 
analysis and of explication, the studiousness of that care 
with which the great Artificer of the human mind confines 
it to the limited, the relative, and the conditioned, and 
excludes it from the infinite, the absolute, and the uncon- 
ditioned. The Philosophy of Common Sense, as expounded 
by this last and greatest of its teachers, bears so important 
30* 



354 consciousness : § 24t 

a part in the development of a sound theism, that I may be 
permitted to give it here more than a passing notice.* 

§ 247. Certain primary beliefs, according to Sir William 
Hamilton, lie at the basis of all truth. These are the ob- 
jects of consciousness, and derive their force from the fact 
that they are necessarily true. Their value, therefore, 
depends on the veracity of consciousness. To doubt this 
"is to doubt the actuality of the fact of consciousness, and 
consequently to doubt the doubt itself, which is a contra- 
diction, and subverts itself." Mr. Hume, in fact, whose 
authority is so often quoted on the other side, concedes this, 
in a passage which diverts from the renditions of conscious- 
ness the whole force of his subtle skepticism. " Should it 

* To those who have not the time or the opportunity for the study 
of Sir W. Hamilton's entire works, scattered as they are over so 
wide a margin, I would recommend Mr. Samuel Tyler's "Progress of 
Philosophy," Phila., J. B. Lippincott & Co., 1858, a work which gives 
a succinct, perspicuous, and reliable statement of the positions of the 
great Scotch philosopher. It is greatly to be regretted that Sir 
"William Hamilton died before he was able to place his views in the 
form of a comprehensive treatise. As now existing in their original 
shape, they are mainly to be found in his foot-notes and his supple- 
mentary dissertations to Reid, and in his "Discussions on Philo- 
sophy and Literature," first published by him as distinct articles in 
the " Edinburgh Review," and afterwards collected by him in a sepa- 
rate volume. The latter has been republished in this country, New 
York, Harper & Brothers, 1856. Of the entire material, a valuable 
analytical compendium, presenting many of the advantages of a dis- 
tinct treatise, has been issued in this country by Mr. 0. W. Wight. 
Fourth edition, New York, Appleton & Co., 1857. 



§ 247 DISPROVING FATALISM. 355 

be here asked me,' 7 he says, in the " Treatise on Human 
Nature," which his adversaries as well as his followers unite 
in appealing to as giving the ablest and most mature exhi- 
bition of his system, "whether I sincerely assent to this 
argument which I seem to take such pains to inculcate, and 
whether I be really one of those skeptics who hold that all 
is uncertain, and that our judgment is not in any thing pos- 
sessed of any measures of truth and falsehood, I should 
reply that this question is entirely superfluous, and' that 
neither I nor any other person was ever sincerely and 
constantly of that opinion. Nature, by an absolute and 
uncontrollable necessity, has determined us to judge as well 
as to breathe and feel ; nor can we any more forbear viewing 
certain objects in a stronger and fuller light upon account 
of their customary connection with a present impression, 
than we can hinder ourselves from thinking as long as we 
are awake, or seeing the surrounding bodies when we turn 
our eyes toward them in broad sunshine. Whoever has 
taken pains to refute the cavils of this total skepticism, has 
really disputed without an antagonist, and endeavored by 
arguments to establish a faculty which Nature has ante- 
cedently implanted in the mind and rendered unavoid- 
able. * * * If belief were a simple act of the thought, 
without any peculiar manner of conception, or the addition 
of force and vivacity, it must infallibly destroy itself, and in 
every case terminate in a total suspension of judgment. 
But as experience will sufficiently convince any one, that 
although he finds no error in my arguments, yet he still con- 
tinues to believe and think and reason as usual, he* may 
safely conclude that his reasoning and belief is some sensa- 



356 fatalism : § 248 

tion or peculiar manner of conception, which it is impossible 
for mere ideas and reflections to destroy."* 

Kow here we have the assertion, not only of the existence 
of these primary beliefs, but of their necessity, (they are 
" unavoidable,") of their veracity, (they are likened to the 
impression on the eye of "bodies in broad sunshine,") and 
of their universality, ("neither I nor any other person was 
ever sincerely and constantly of that [the skeptical] opinion.") 
The Philosophy of Common Sense, as taught by Sir Wil- 
liam Hamilton, takes these primary beliefs as the basis, and 
makes subordination to and agreement with them a test of 
all disputed propositions. 

§ 248. So far as this system bears upon the question now 
before us, it may be summed up in a single principle. Our 
knowledge is limited by the condition of relativity. "We can 
have no knowledge of the absolute. Hence it is that while the 
Hegelian school assumed to itself the title of the Philosophy 
of the Absolute, that of which Sir William Hamilton is the 
exponent, takes that of the Philosophy of the Conditioned. 
How these are distinguished is thus stated by Sir William 
Hamilton himself : — 

" The philosophy of the Conditioned is the express con- 
verse of the philosophy of the Absolute — at least as this 
system has been latterly evolved in Germany. For this 
asserts to man a knowledge of the Unconditioned — of the 
Absolute and Infinite ; while that denies to him a knowledge 
, of either, and maintains, all which we immediately know, or 
can know, to be only the Conditioned, the Relative, the 

* Essay on Human Nature, part iv. \ 1. 



§ 248 REFUTED BY HAMILTON. 35 T 

Phenomenal, the Finite. The one, supposing knowledge to 
be only of existence in itself, and existence in itself to be 
apprehended, and even understood, proclaims — ' Understand 
that you may believe' (Intellige ut credas ;) the other, sup- 
posing that existence in itself is unknown, that apprehension 
is only a phenomena, and that these are received only upon 
trust, as incomprehensibly revealed facts, proclaims, with the 
prophet — 'Believe that ye may understand,' (Crede ut in- 
telligas. Is. vii. 9, sec. lxx.) But extremes meet. In one 
respect, both coincide, for both agree, that the knowledge of 
Nothing is the principle or result of all true philosophy. 

'"Scire nihil — studium, quo nos laetamur utrique.' But 
the one doctrine, openly maintaining that the Nothing must 
yield everything, is a philosophic omniscience ; whereas the 
other, holding that Nothing can yield nothing, is a philoso- 
phic nescience. In other words, the doctrine of the Un- 
conditioned is a philosophy confessing relative ignorance, 
but professing absolute knowledge ; while the doctrine of 
the Conditioned is a philosophy professing relative know- 
ledge, but confessing absolute ignorance. Thus, touching 
the absolute : the watchword of the one is, — ' Noscendo cog- 
noscitur, ignorando ignoratur;' the watchword of the other 
is, — 'Noscendo ignoratur, ignorando cognoscitur.' 

"But which is true ? To answer this, we need only exa- 
mine our own consciousness ; there shall we recognize the 
limited 'extent of our tether.' 

"'Tecum habita, et noris quam sit tibi curta supellex.' 
But this one requisite is fulfilled (alas !) by few ; and the 
same philosophic poet has to lament : — 

Ut nemo in sese tentat clescendere, — nemo ; 
Sed prgecedenti spectator mantica tergo ! " 



358 fatalism: §249 

§ 249. Our inability, therefore, to reconcile the two great 
primary beliefs of human consciousness — God's sovereignty 
and man's responsibility — arises from our own impotence, 
itself a proof of the proposition that the sphere from which 
the human intellect is thus excluded, is one which is enve- 
loped in the mystery of the Divine counsels. In what way 
this relieves us from the fatalistic side of the necessitarian 
theory, is thus stated by Sir W. Hamilton : — 

" There is no ground for inferring a certain fact to be 
impossible, merely from our inability to conceive it possible. 
At the same time, if the causal judgment be not an express 
affirmation of mind, but only an incapacity of thinking the 
opposite ; it follows that such a negative judgment cannot 
counterbalance the express affirmative, the unconditional tes- 
timony, of consciousness, — that we are, though we know not 
how, the true and responsible authors of our actions, not 
merely the worthless links in an adamantine series of effects 
and causes. It appears to me, that it is only on such a doc- 
trine that we can philosophically vindicate the liberty of the 
human will, — that we can rationally assert to man — 'fatis 
avolsa voluntas.' How the will can possibly be free, must 
remain to us, under the present limitation of our faculties, 
wholly incomprehensible. We are unable to conceive an ab- 
solute commencement ; we cannot, therefore, conceive a free 
volition. A determination, by motives, cannot, to our un- 
derstanding, escape from necessitation. Nay, were we even 
to admit as true, what we cannot think as possible, still the 
doctrine of a motiveless volition would be only casualism ; 
and the free acts of an indifferent are, morally and rationally, 
as worthless as the preordered passions of a determined will. 



§ 249 DISPROVED BY CONSCIOUSNESS. 359 

How, therefore, I repeat, moral liberty is possible in man or 
God, we are utterly unable speculatively to understand. But 
practically, the fact, that we are free, is given to us in the 
consciousness of an uncompromising law of duty, in the con- 
sciousness of our moral accountability; and this fact of 
liberty cannot be redargued on the ground that it is incom- 
prehensible, for the philosophy of the conditioned proves, 
against the necessitarian, that things there are, which may, 
nay, must be, true, of which the understanding is wholly 
unable to construe to itself the possibility." 

But does not this stop with the vindication of moral 
liberty, as possible though inconceivable, and does it 
not, on the other hand, give the fatalistic necessitarian 
scheme the advantage of being conceivable as well as possi- 
ble ? Does it not, therefore, bring us back once more to 
Fatalism, as, of the two schemes, the one beset with the less 
difficulty ? This is answered by Sir W. Hamilton with ex- 
quisite subtlety and conclusive effect : " This philosophy is 
not only competent to defend the fact of our moral liberty, 
possible though inconceivable, against the assault of the 
fatalist; it retorts against himself the very objection of in- 
comprehensibility by which the fatalist had thought to 
triumph over the libertarian. It shows that the scheme of 
freedom is not more inconceivable than the scheme of neces- 
sity. For while fatalism is a recoil from the more obtrusive 
inconceivability of an absolute commencement, on the fact 
of which commencement the doctrine of liberty proceeds, 
the fatalist is shown to overlook the equal, but less obtru- 
sive inconceivability of an infinite non-commencement, on 
the assertion of which non-commencement his own doctrine 



360 fatalism: §249 

of necessity must ultimately rest. As equally unthinkable, 
the two counter, the two one-sided schemes are thus theo- 
retically balanced. But practically, our consciousness of the 
moral law, which, without a moral liberty in man, would be 
a mendacious imperative, gives a decisive preponderance to 
the doctrine of freedom over the doctrine of fate. We are 
free in act, if we are accountable for our actions. 

" Such (cor;dy~a ffwerolatv) are the hints of an undeveloped 
philosophy, which, I am confident, is founded upon truth. 
To this confidence I have come, not merely through the 
convictions of my own consciousness, but by finding in this 
system a centre and conciliation for the most opposite of 
philosophical opinions. Above all, however, I am con- 
firmed in my belief, by the harmony between the doctrines 
of this philosophy, and those of revealed truth. ' Credo 
equidem, nee vana fides.' The philosophy of the con- 
ditioned is indeed pre-eminently a discipline of humility ; a 
'learned ignorance,' directly opposed to the false 'know- 
ledge which puffeth up.' I may, indeed, say with St. Chry- 
sostom : — 'The foundation of our philosophy is humility.'* 
For it is professedly a scientific demonstration of the im- 
possibility of that ' wisdom in high matters' which the 
Apostle prohibits us even to attempt ; and it proposes, 
from the limitation of the human powers, from our impotence 
to comprehend what, however, we must admit, to show 
articulately why the ' secret things of God' cannot but be to 
man 'past finding out.' Humility thus becomes the car- 
dinal virtue not only of revelation, but of reason. This 

* Homil. de Perf. Evang. 



§ 249 DISPROVED BY CONSCIOUSNESS. 361 

scheme proves, moreover, that no difficulty emerges in theo- 
logy which had not previously emerged in philosophy ; that 
in fact, if the divine do not transcend what it has pleased 
the Deity to reveal, and willfully identify the doctrine of 
God's word with some arrogant extreme of human specula- 
tion, philosophy will be found the most useful auxiliary of 

theoloJTV ^ ^jfcjpjjsjfcjf: 

"It is here shown to be as irrational as irreligious, on 
the ground of human understanding, to deny, either on the 
one hand, the foreknowledge, predestination, and free grace 
of God, or, on the other, the free will of man; that we 
should believe both, and both in unison, though unable to 
comprehend either even apart. This philosophy proclaims 
with St. Augustin, and Augustin in his maturest writings : — 
' If there be not free grace in God, how can He save the 
world ; and if there be not free will in man, how can the 
world by God be judged ?'* Or, as the same doctrine is 
perhaps expressed even better by St. Bernard: — 'Abolish 
free will, and there is nothing to be saved; abolish free 
grace, and there is nothing wherewithal to save.' "f 

* Ad Valentinum, Epist. 214. 

•J- De Gratia et Libero Arbitrio, c. i. See this question considered 
in relation to the origin of evil, ante, \ 113-181. 
31 



362 pantheism : § 250 



CHAP TEE IV. 



PANTHEISM. 



a. In what it consists. 

a 1 . Material. 

§ 250. Hylozoism, as has already been incidentally 
noticed, holds that all matter is the seat of divine energy 
and is thus entitled to worship. When the entire perso- 
nality of God is thus distributed, leaving no residuum 
behind, this doctrine becomes equivalent to material pan- 
theism. The whole universe, psychical as well as physical, 
is material. Intellect is but an attribute of body. Deity 
itself has no spiritual personality, but comprehends and is 
bounded by the physical universe, itself self-existent and 
eternal. Nor is the view of those who hold that some por- 
tion of the divine energy remains undistributed, materially 
different in its consequences from that just stated. Though 
there be a divine spiritual residue remaining after the 
divinity of the universe is carved out, such residue is re- 
manded to a condition of comatose insensibility, that of 
a Divinity on furlough, merely to be occasionally recognized 
by a complimentary adoration, and then to be passed prac- 
tically by as possessed of no real power.* 

* Of this class is the pantheism of worldliness, which makes the 



§ 251 WHAT IS IT. 363 

b 1 . Ideal. 

§ 251. In this scheme the objective does not exist, all 
material nature being resolved into the conception enter- 
tained of it by the intellect. Existence and thought, in 
this view, are identical, and the individual ego is but an 
item in the absolute god. There is no matter, — we are 
all god, — form the two fundamental articles in ideal pan- 
theism. 

It is among the German transcendental philosophers that 
this species of pantheism finds its chief exponents. State 
the doctrine philosophically, and it narrows itself to a denial 
of the distinct existence of any spiritual agency except 
God. There is no dualism in the universe. The soul is 
but a phenomenon of God, as the wave is but a phenomenon 
of the sea. Sometimes we hear the terms " Son" and 
" Spirit" used, and we suppose from this a recognition of 
even a divine distinction of persons. This, however, is far 
from the case. The " Son" is the universe ; the " Spirit," 
the property which binds the Absolute and the universe to- 
gether. Cousin tells us that the Trinity consists of, " at the 



world, e.g. society, supreme, recognizing, it is true, the Divine 
Being as existing, but as in a state of retirement, and entitled 
only to nominal homage. Mr. Rogers thus illustrates this in his 
" Table-Talk." An English duchess was, one Sunday morning, too 
late for church, and found the door closed. " Never mind, Georgiana," 
said she to one of her daughters, as she turned away, " anyhow, we 
have done the civil thing." It was the "civil thing" done by the 
world to a superannuated God. But what an awful reverse to the 
picture have we when we contemplate that God, august, tremendous, 
present, patient, waiting the day of His power. 



364 pantheism: §251 

same time, God, Nature, and Humanity."* This well de- 
serves a rebuke which is all the more severe from the 
fact that it comes from Mr. Morell : " Much as we admire 
Cousin, while he keeps within his proper limits, and much 
as we are disposed to maintain the truth of his philosophy, 
in most of its principal features, we cannot but repudiate, 
with all our energy, his attempts to intrude upon the sacred 
province of the Christian revelation. If he will stand up 
as a theologian, and fight the battle upon its proper grounds, 
let him do so, and there are plenty to take up the gauntlet 
he throws down ; but it is not the part, which his own phi- 
losophy would dictate, to raise a new theory of revelation 
to supersede all the rest, without considering the facts 
and the evidences which the Christian revelation can dis- 
play, "f 

It is not within my limit to examine the several phases 
which this doctrine assumes with the transcendental and 
eclectic philosophers. With Schelling it is termed Identi- 
tatslehre, or the doctrine of Identity. Hegel mounts above 
this, and tells us that the " World- Spirit" (Weltgeist) has 
freed himself from all incumbrances, and is able to conceive 
himself as Absolute and all-engrossing Intelligence, (abso- 
lute Geist.) According to this system, history is the mere 
autobiography of God; the world is but the flesh, ever 
changing yet eternal, in which His divine essence is em- 
bodied ; He himself, as the all-comprehending person- 
ality, embraces all spiritual as well as material existence ; 
to Him the world is necessary, as an inalienable property of 

* See Morell's Hist. Phil., p. 655. f Ibid. p. 661. 



§ 251 IN WHAT IT CONSISTS. 365 

His own life ; sin, like pain, is a form of good, and a neces- 
sary evolution of the Absolute ; philosophy is the highest 
form of religion. In these views the transcendental writers, 
both in Germany and in this country, in the main agree. 
Even Cousin, in his History of Philosophy, does not, I con- 
ceive, vary much from this stand-point.* Sir W. Hamilton, 
indeed, declares that Cousin "is a disciple, though by no 
means a servile disciple" of Schelling. On the other hand, 
Mr. Lewes, in his History of Philosophy, tells us that 
"Cousin's system is but an awkward imitation of Hegel. "f 
Both critics are in this correct. In Cousin's earlier papers, 
he undoubtedly followed more closely the Hegelian lead, 
while in his History of Philosophy he attaches himself more 
particularly to that of Schelling. In the practical main- 
tenance of Ideal Pantheism, in fact, Schelling and Hegel 
agree, though they divide in their way of reaching the 
result. It is the result in which Cousin followed both. 
The " science of the unconditioned" at both eras found him 
among its disciples. In his later writings, however, while 
not expressly receding from this philosophy, he has with 
great solemnity declared, that so far as it is inconsistent 
with a true Theism, it was no longer held by him. J 

* See his Hist, of Mod. Phil , trans, by Mr. 0. W. Wight, vol. i. 
p. 83. 

f Appleton's ed., 1857, p. 738. 

J I cannot but feel, however, that the leading philosophical critics 
of all schools agree as to the pantheistic tendency of Cousin's eclec- 
ticism. So far as concerns the Philosophy of the Absolute, Hegel, 
as is well known, claimed him as an adherent, and in reviewing 
Cousin's earlier writings, gladly welcomed his aid. Mr. Lewes, who 
31* 



366 pantheism: §252 

b. Objections to Pantheism. 

§ 252. a 1 . Its hopelessness. 

It has no future. This wonderful " sea-change" of na- 
ture — this perpetuity of the world, in all its waning and 
waxing loveliness, only, however, to wane and wax again — 
this is the best hope that the pantheist can nourish. The 
soul is ever and ever to swing backward and forward from 



may be well considered as representing positivism, and Sir W. Ha- 
milton, as representing the Philosophy of Common Sense, speak for 
themselves in the text. The opinion of orthodox Christian theolo- 
gians may be gathered from Dr. Chalmers, who declares Cousin's 
idealism to have a pantheistic leaning, and from Mr. Pearson,* who 
says, — "For the last twenty-five years, Cousin, the eloquent ' apostle 
of Rationalism in France,' and others of the eclectic school, have 
been inculcating, in the Ecole Normale, at Paris, a system much more 
favorable to pantheism than to the Christian revelation ; and have 
raised up not a few instructors to disseminate the same throughout 
the country." To this we may add the remarks of Mr. Morell, a 
critic whose position, so far as religion is concerned, is of the ex- 
tremest latitudinarianism. "Cousin's view of the Divine Nature," 
he says, "is confessedly somewhat recondite and indistinct. While 
on the one hand, he altogether repudiates the charge of pantheism, 
yet on the other hand, it is difficult to say how his opinions, as above 
described, can be altogether vindicated from it."f This element in 
Cousin's philosophy has been assailed with great power by Maret, 
in his "Essai sur le Pantheisme ;" by Bautain, in his "Psychologie 
Experimentale," and by the "Princeton Review," in 1839 and 1856. 
Dr. Henry, in his introduction to Cousin's Psychology, gives us, on 
the other hand, an elaborate reply to these attacks. 



* Infidelity, etc., Carter's eel., pp. 67, 564. 

t Morell, Hist. Phil., Cart, ed., p. 655. See post, \ 256, 



§ 253 ITS COMFORTLESSNESS. 367 

decay to resurrection, and then, not from resurrection to as- 
cension, but from resurrection to decay. It is the tolling of 
the bell over the wrecked steamer : — 

Tolling, tolling, tolling, 

The bell by billows rung ; 
Night and day, and day and night, 

Speaking with mournful tongue ; 
Toll for the queenly boat 

Wreck'd on yon rocky shore, 
Sea-weed is in her palace halls, 

She rides the surge no more. 

Nor can ideal pantheism hold a higher hope. Already its 
disciples declare : — " The currents of the Universal Being 
circulate through me. I am part or particle of God."* 
There is nothing for him to rise to, for he holds to no per- 
sonal God to whom he may hereafter mount. And, at the 
best, all he can look forward to is, when the earthly house is 
dissolved, to be returned, as the air in the broken bottle, 
into undistinguished, unconscious space. 

§ 253. & 1 . Its comfortlessness. 

It knows no providence to look up to, no heart, human 
enough to feel and divine enough to help, on which to re- 
pose. Its orphanage is infinite, for in all the weakness and 
dependence of perpetual pupilage, it stands in the isolation 
of the One Eternal and Supreme himself. So it is on its own 
showing; but, how much more awful is its state when it 
witnesses — and of this it must admit there is some chance — 
the shadow over it of a Father disowning because disowned ! 

* Emerson, Essays, etc. 



368 pantheism : § 254-255 

§ 254. c\ Its repugnancy to common sense, denying in- 
dividuality. 

Consciousness demonstrates to us self, observation others. 
Pantheism denies both. "We are each other, others are 
ourselves, all is God." But common sense comes in and de- 
clares, "I am myself, thou art thyself, and God is above 
and around us all."* 

§ 255. d 1 . It destroys belief, not merely in a God, but 
in the practical sequences of nature, and generates, there- 
fore, habits, not of energy and perseverance, but of 
dreamy mysticism and inaction. 

This is illustrated by the social working of pantheism 
as distinguished from that of even the sternest mono- 
theism. Take, as an instance of the latter, even when in 
the shape which, to the philosopher, appears of all others 
the most rugged, — that of the Huguenots, the Scotch cove- 
nanters, the English Puritans, and the Dutch and German 
adherents of Calvin. No one can deny the industrial energy 
of these religionists. They were charged with so exalting 
God's sovereignty as to destroy human responsibility. Their 
conduct did not show this. Nowhere were to be found work- 
men who united in such an eminent degree patience with 
industry, and ingenuity with social purity and honesty. When 
they were driven from the south of Prance the looms 
stopped; -when they were driven from the Palatinate the 
fields were deserted. But how has it been with pantheism ? 
In the few cases where it has exercised any influence it has 

* As to the way this point is met by the philosophy of common 
sense, see ante, \ 247. 



§ 256 ITS IMMORALITY. 369 

generated a dreamy imbecility which has repelled labor, and, 
by so doing, has left the energies open to the approach of 
sentimentalism or sensualism. So we find by examining the 
history of the Phalanxes and Brooke Farms, where the ex- 
periment of practical transcendentalism has been tried. * Nor, 
when we take the principle of the two schools, do we see 
any reason to be surprised at this. The former inculcates, 
in connection with reverence and love to Grod, the discharge 
of a series of severe specific duties, prominent among which 
are industry and an energetic practical benevolence. The 
latter leaves its disciples to simmer in complacent self-con- 
templation, or to evaporate into an inane because indefinite 
and universal sympathy. 

§ 256. e\ It apotheosizes vice as well as virtue. 

Of all the pantheistic schemes, that of eclecticism makes 
the nearest approach to a true theism, and most vehe- 
mently repudiates the usual pantheistic corollaries. Yet the 
theory of Cousin, the founder of modern eclecticism, and its 
most brilliant advocate, involves the entire absorption of 
the individual purpose in the Divine. Mr. Morell, whose 
capacity as a critic all admit, and whose fairness cannot be 
doubted at least by those who have the benefit of his philo- 
sophical sympathies, tells us that "if we admit that the 
Deity of Cousin possesses a conscious personality, yet still 
it is one which contains in itself the infinite personality and 
consciousness of every subordinate mind. God is the ocean 
— we are but the waves ; the ocean may be one individuality, 

* See, as a very powerful delineation of the working of the latter 
system, Hawthorne's fine tale of the Blythedale Romance. 



3T0 PANTHEISM : § 256 

and each wave another ; but still they are essentially one 
and the same. We see not how Cousin's Theism can pos- 
sibly be consistent with any idea of moral evil ; neither 
do we see how, starting from such a dogma, he can ever 
vindicate and uphold his own theory of human liberty. On 
such theistic principles all sin must be simply defect, and all 
defect must be absolutely fatuitous."* Such, in fact, is the 
position practically taken by Cousin himself. "History," 
he tells us in one place, "is the manifestation of God's 
supervision of humanity ; the judgments of history are the 
judgments of God himself "\ Let us take, as an illustra- 
tion of this, the way he claims war as a Divine evolution. 
" Wars and battles are, first, inevitable ; secondly, bene- 
ficial." "The hazards of war and of the diverse fortunes 
of combats are spoken of without cessation ; for my part, I 
think there is very little chance in war ; the dice are loaded, 
it seems, for I defy any one to cite me a single game lost by 
humanity." "What is glory? The judgment of humanity 
upon one of its members ; and humanity is always right. "J 
"Humanity is always right," and this not because, like an 
infallible church, humanity is charged as a corporation with 
divine wisdom, but because the individuals who make up 
humanity bear the same relation to the Divine centre of truth 
as do the waves to the sea. War is right because it is a 
movement of these individuals, who are themselves the ema- 
nations of God. All other crimes lose their stain from the 
same reason. 



* Morell's Hist. Phil., p. 660. See ante, \ 249. 
f Hist. Phil., trans, by Wight, p. 159. 
% Ibid, pp. 186-189. 



§ 257-258 ITS IMMORALITY. 37 1 

If these results flow from eclecticism, a philosophy in 
which the Hegelian system is held in check by being placed 
in juxtaposition with Scotch orthodox psychology, a fortiori 
do they follow from those systems of which the "Absolute 
Idealism" of Hegel is the centre. 

§ 257. It is no answer to this position that writers of this 
class express themselves in abhorrence of crime in general, 
and more particularly of such special offences as are most in 
the way of a sublimated transcendentalism. But this is in the 
same way that we speak of the pale hue of one planet and 
the lurid hue of another. It is a matter of opinion on our 
part, involving no charge of culpability on the planet. In 
fact, it is the Divine absorbent that has some of its outer 
evolutions thus tinged : it is not the planets individually. 
So with sin. It is dark or light, — it is lenient or heinous, — 
still the human perpetrator is not to be charged with it, but 
the Absolute ocean itself, of which man is a mere ripple. 

§ 258. "But," it may be said, "is not this very much the 
same view as that which results from necessitarianism, a 
system considered an open one by the great body of Chris- 
tian orthodox theologians ?" The reply to this is decisive. 
The necessitarian, whenever, at least, he accepts the Chris- 
tian orthodox formulas, recognizes the individuality and 
responsibility of the human will. It may be that this is 
inconsistent with the doctrine of necessity on any other 
hypothesis than that of the philosophy of Common Sense. 
Be this as it may, the Christian necessitarian makes the full- 
ness of human responsibility one of the two great facts of his 
system. He never contemplates man's extinction or absorp- 
tion. According to him the human soul is invested with 



372 pantheism: §259 

the two sublimest of properties. The first of these is that 
of becoming a co-worker with God on earth and a co-heir 
with Christ in heaven. The second, almost equally sublime 
though inexpressibly awful, is that of being a persistent and 
continuous rebel against the Most High. This most deci- 
sive proof of an insoluble and repellent individuality, necessi- 
tarianism emphatically recognizes. It pictures before itself 
this insurrectionary will, eternally rearing its crest not only 
against the Almighty himself, but against its own peace and 
comfort. In this awful spectacle the Christian necessitarian 
shudderingly gazes as it were on a rock like that of St. 
Helena, in which a captive, confined in his island bounds, 
maintains in fierce, unsubdued isolation, a defiant and mock- 
ing rebellion. There is a tragic grandeur in this which 
shadows forth to us the individuality of the soul with a rug- 
ged sternness which even the pictures of bliss do not equal, 
just in the same way as the black and portentous cloud on 
the summer horizon is more readily traced than the sunlight 
fleece that is hardly distinguishable from the splendid infinite 
above. It ill becomes those who absorb the individual in 
the absolute to claim that they alone understand the dignity 
of human nature, and the sublimity of its mission. Nowhere 
are that dignity and sublimity asserted with such austere 
and yet such inspiring precision, — nowhere is a voice so 
warning and yet so cheering, — nowhere with accompani- 
ments so august, — as by him who asserts the self-responsi- 
bility of man in making up his eternity of bliss or woe. 

§ 259. f l . It is inconsistent ivith the marks of purpose 
and contrivance which we meet with throughout the uni- 
verse. 



§ 260 ILLOGICAL. 373 

On this point I can do no more than refer to the first book 
in the present volume, as giving a summary of the argument 
from design. 

§ 260. gn. It involves the absurdity and the self-contra- 
diction of intelligence generated by matter ; and brings us 
back again to a first cause, which differs from that of the 
theist in that while the one makes God create matter, the 
other makes matter create God. 

God, or the Absolute Intelligence of the Pantheist, is 
inseparable from nature. In the primeval stages of crea- 
tion, therefore, when there was no organized life, Grod was 
matter — matter unlighted by any ray of intelligence. In 
the days of the sea-anemone, and of the beach-fern, the 
divine intelligence was purely vegetable. In future stages 
that intelligence would not arise above that of the insensate 
crustaceans that sprawled over the soft mud of the paleozoic 
lagoons, or the gigantic and ferocious lizards and crocodiles 
that ravaged the shallows. Now this is liable to a double 
difficulty : it makes the Perfect and Absolute — for such He 
is, even as the Pantheist's theory, though He be but an 
aggregate — it makes Him to consist of, alternately, a stone, 
a fish, and a beast. 

It makes matter create God. Now the pantheistic objec- 
tion to the theistic argument is that it makes God create 
matter. It is impossible, it is said by the pantheists, for the 
Intelligent to create the Material out of nothing. But how 
much more strongly does this apply to the position which 
modern geological discovery compels the pantheist to take, 
that the Material out of nothing creates the Intelligent. 
32 



3T4 COSMICAL development : § 261-262 



CHAPTER V. 



DEVELOPMENT. 



a. In what the development theory consists. 

§ 261. Casting aside the theory of ecclesiastical develop- 
ment, which scarcely falls within our present range, develop- 
ment may be considered as of two classes : — 

a. 1 Gosmical. b\ Organic. 

a 1 . Gosmical. 

§ 262. An original and universal fire-mist, formed of ne- 
bulous vapor, existed, it is assumed, first in a state of intense 
heat, and then was by cooling condensed in part into a fluid, 
and in part into a solid. As it cooled, certain nuclei were 
established which became centres of aggregation to which 
the neighboring diffused matter was drawn. This very pro- 
cess, it is declared, imparts a rotatory motion. As, however, 
the nucleus increased to a bulb in whose circumference the 
centrifugal force exceeded the agglomerating force, rings 
would fall off which would pursue their own appropriate 
motion. In this way, first a central sun, and then a plane- 
tary system, may be supposed to arise. Even now, it is said, 
this process of development is going on, and the milky-way 
is but the fluid out of which future stars are to be churned. 

I do not propose to go into the astronomical question 



§ 263 nebula. 375 

involved. Two views, as is well known, have been taken, 
one denying, the other affirming, the resolvability of the 
nebulae. The first was summed up, in 1854, by Sir David 
Brewster,* who gives us the following conclusions. Nebulae 
should be classed as follows : 1, Nebulas that the telescope 
has resolved ; and 2, Nebulae that the telescope has not 
resolved. 

§ 263. Now the latter class, as the power of the telescope 
increases, has gradually been giving way to the former. 
" As it is now an astronomical fact that nebulae which Sir Wil- 
liam Herschel with his finest telescopes could not resolve, and 
which had no appearance whatever of being resolvable, have 
been resolved into distinct stars by the magnificent reflectors 
of Lord Rosse, we are enabled without any hypothetical state- 
ments to place the question of the existence of star dust or 
purely nebulous matter, in its proper aspect ; that is, we can 
assign a satisfactory reason to the reader for considering every 
nebula in the heavens as a cluster of stars which is likely to 
be resolved by telescopes superior to those of Lord Rosse. 
* * * rj^g interesting discovery made by Lord Rosse of 
what is called spiral nebulae, where the nebulous matter 
may be considered as having been thrown off by some singu- 
lar cause from the centre of the nebulae, may be regarded as 
hostile to the opinion that such nebulae are composed of 
separate stars. * * * 

" As the appearance of motion, therefore, in particular 
nebulae is no proof that they consist of purely nebulous 
matter composed of invisible particles, we are entitled to 

* More Worlds than One, etc., p. 175 ; New York, R. Carter & Bros. 



3T6 cosmical development: §263 

draw the conclusion that this large class of celestial bodies 
are clusters of stars at an immense distance from our own 
system, — that each of the stars of which they are composed 
is the sun or centre of a system of planets, and that these 
planets are inhabited, or if we follow a strict analogy, that 
at least one planet in each of these numberless systems is 
like our earth, the seat of vegetable, animal, and intellectual 
life. 

"Before we quit the subject of nebulae, and purely nebulous 
matter, we must notice two points connected with the optical 
appearance of nebulae which we think are strong arguments 
in favor of their being resolvable into stars. If a nebula 
consisted of phosphorescent or self-luminous atoms of nebu- 
lous matter, its light would be immensely inferior in bright- 
ness to that of the same nebula composed of suns which are 
provided with a luminous atmosphere for the very purpose 
of discharging a brilliant light. When we see, therefore, 
two nebulae of the very same brightness, and find by the tele- 
scope that one of them only is resolvable into stars, we can 
scarcely doubt that the other is similarly composed. We can- 
not conceive that a nebula of phosphorescent stars could be 
visible at such enormous distances from our system. When 
a planetary nebula is equally bright in every part of its disc, 
like that which is a little to the south of ft Ursse Majoris, 
and which resembles a flat disc, 'presented to us in a plane 
precisely perpendicular to the visual ray,' it is impossible to 
regard it as nebulous matter in a state of aggregation. In 
like manner, all those nebula?, which have strange and irre- 
gular shapes, indicate the absence of any force of aggrega- 
tion, and authorize us to regard them as clusters of stars." 



§ 264-265 RESOLVABILITY OF NEBULA. 3?T 

§ 264. Sir John Herschel, differing in this respect from 
his illustrious father, thus speaks : " We have every reason 
to believe, at least in the generality of cases, that a nebula 
is nothing more than a cluster of stars."* 

§ 265. To the same effect is the language of Dr. Nichol, 
in his work on the Architecture of the Heavens, f Before 
the application of Lord Rosse's telescope to the nebula of 
Orion, Dr. jSTichol held to the belief that this and the other 
masses in the heavens were to be presumed to be, in part at 
least, a nebulous fluid. In 1851, however, when Lord Rosse's 
discoveries at Parsonstown were known, Dr. Nichol thus 
revises his former opinion: "On the ground of a certain 
characteristic, Herschel felt disposed to divide unresolved 
nebulas into two classes ; he declined to believe one class to 
be stellar, because that conclusion would have constrained 
his acceptance of what seemed opposed by all analogy, viz., 
the existence of aggregations of stars in a condition of 
compression to which he had found nothing even approxi- 
mately similar, in the course of his previous examination of 
the universe. Now, the nebula of Orion being an eminent 
instance of this latter class, its decisive resolution broke 
down the force of the characteristic on which Herschel 
depended as a discriminating one : it showed that to be a 
fact, on the presumed improbability of which the entire 
theory depended. Assuredly, it is not impossible that mat- 
ter may be found somewhere in a rude or chaotic state, not 

* Memoir on Nebulas and Clusters of Stars; Lond. Phil. Trans. 
1833. 
f Pages 144-5. 

32* 



3T8 COSMICAL DEVELOPMENT : § 266 

having yet put on the organization of stars. To the 
abstract possibilities of existence no man dare assign any 
limit ; but that which alone is existence or reality for the 
mind — the domain of its belief, is guarded by strict rules of 
evidence ; and now the astronomer can adduce no justification 
of the assertion, that any nebula, however stubborn, ought 
to be interpreted contrary to the analogy of all other known 
objects of its kind, or termed irresolvable, except in relation 
to the capacity of the telescope with which he had sought 
to explore it."* 

§ 266. I have thus given the views of these eminent writers 
on this vexed question. I am far, however, from thinking 
that there is any necessary connection between revelation 
and the theory on which these views rest. On the contrary, 
I hold there are many reasons why we should refrain from 
mixing the question with religion in any way. The theory 
itself is not capable of absolute proof. Its disproof, which 
at any time is at least possible, would involve, should it be 
thus connected with the popular faith, a shock which it is 
not wise unnecessarily to encounter. Let us see, then, 
whether there are not grounds, at least enough, to lead us 
to hold our opinions in this respect in abeyance. 

The chief arguments which are relied on to prove the 
resolvablity of the nebulae are very lucidly and felicitously 
stated by the author of "The Plurality of Worlds, "f It is 
there urged that the analogy of the Magellanic Clouds, of 



* Nichol's Architecture of the Heavens ; ninth London edition, 
p. 145. 

f Gould & Lincoln's edition, p. 135. 



§ 267 ARE NEBULA RESOLVABLE ? 379 

the Zodiacal light, and of the tails of comets, goes to show 
that there may be luminous irresolvable matter; that at the 
best, the dots into which Lord Rosse's telescope has resolved 
Orion are not necessarily suns, but may themselves be nebu- 
lous lumps; that the spiral shape, like "a curled feather, or 
whirlpool of light," exhibited by many of those nebulae, is 
that which would be assumed by a luminous mass if detached 
from a comet when moving along its orbit ; and that their 
form and character indicate that they are incapable of per- 
manency or system. Hence the conclusion is taken that 
they are vast masses of incoherent vapor, of immense 
tenuity, diffused in forms more or less irregular, but all of 
them destitute of any regular features of solid moving 
bodies. 

§ 261. Now let us observe that no man can risk a dog- 
matic assertion of either the truth or error of this position. 
When we reach the limit of Lord Rosse's telescope, we have 
opened to us, on the hypothesis that the nebulae in sight are 
resolvable, a new series of nebulae as to which we have ana- 
logy alone as a guide. 

The probability may be, to use the language of Dr. Har- 
ris,* "that a still superior telescopic power would resolve 
other nebulous appearances and bring new ones to light; 
and so on without end." "We then fall back on analogy. 
On the one side, we have the resolvability of the nebulae 
whose masses the telescope has so far penetrated. On the 
other side, we have the prior condition of our own earth, 
whose surface bears witness to an almost indefinite succes- 

* Pre-Adamite Earth, p. 74. 



380 COSMICAL DEVELOPMENT I § 26T 

sion of stages in the process by which it was manufactured 
for human use. 

And observe that if the latter hypothesis affects the theistic 
argument, it is only to strengthen its proof, in the same way 
that geology, by proving actual cosmical change produced by 
physical force, accumulates the testimony of a Divine agency. 
The proof of contrivance in the watch, which Dr. Paley's 
inquirer is supposed to pick up in a field, is greatly aug- 
mented by a visit to the watch-maker's shop, where the ma- 
terial is seen in the process of preparation. Our conviction 
of the omnipotence and benevolence of God is iu like man- 
ner augmented by viewing the majestic care with which, in 
ages indefinitely remote, the fuel, the soil, and the irrigation 
of the human era were provided for.* If in the more remote 
of these stars there be inhabitants provided with instruments 
of sufficient penetration, such observers may now be viewing 
our globe in the course of chaotic preparation. If so, they 
merely see aclitional evidence of the creative interposition of 
God. If we assume the converse to be true, the conclusion 
is the same.f 



* See this point more fully discussed, ante, g 68, 70, etc. 

f The folly of committing the church to the position of the resolva- 
bility of the nebulge, is thus admirably stated: "The real difference 
between Sir David and the Essayist, with regard to the Nebular 
Theory, consists in the exercise or neglect of a wise discrimination. 
Sir David stands at a safe distance and cries out 'Fire,' but does not 
bring a single cup of water to stop the evil. The other pulls down the 
sheds which form a road for the flames from the burning out-house 
to the dwelling, and make3 the engines play vigorously to put down 



§ 268 HOW FAR ATHEISTIC. 381 

§ 268 b\ Organic development. 

a 1 . On this point we are referred, by the author of "Ves- 
tiges of Creation," to the experiments of Mr. Crosse and Mr. 

the conflagration. The idea that brute matter, by its own energy, can 
exalt itself successively into the fungus, the zoophyte, the insect, the 
fish, the quadruped, and, even still higher, into human intelligence, is a 
falsehood not only opposed to all the facts of science, but near of kin 
to open atheism. But the opinion that it is formed, at first, in a dif- 
fused or nebulous condition, and left to condense, by its own laws, 
into globes and systems, receptive, in due season, of vegetable and 
animal life — is quite consistent with the most profound religious faith, 
while it has certainly several analogies in known facts, and some pre- 
sumptions of science in its favor. It detracts nothing from the wis- 
dom really implied in the act of creation, and only renders it more 
profound in its own nature, and more gradual in its manifestation. 
An oak is not the less beautiful or wonderful, as a work of Divine 
power, because it is developed from a little acorn, in which none of 
its properties could be seen by the keenest eye, than if it were formed 
in a moment, with all its gnarled boughs and graceful foliage com- 
plete. There may be minds which would regard the work of crea- 
tion as most worthy of the Almighty, if a vast number of larger and of 
smaller globes were called into being suddenly in their actual form, 
and then placed at their several distances, and set in motion around 
each other and their own axes, by so many distinct and independent 
impulses of the Creator's hand. But the same principle would seem 
to involve the consequence that every form of vegetable, animal, and 
human life would also have been introduced at one and the same 
moment; and the six days' interval in Genesis, and the long periods 
of geology, would be alike excluded, as disguising the simple energy 
of Omnipotence. The view, it seeins to us, is equally magnificent, 
and rather more consistent with the analogies just named; that mat- 
ter may have been created in a state in which its future harmonies 



382 acarus crossii : § 268 

Weekes, by which, as is alleged, a small insect (Acarus 
Crossii or Acarus Galvanicus) was generated through a 
voltaic battery in a saturated solution of the silicate of 
potash or the nitrate of copper, or the ferrocyanate of po- 
tassium. This supposed discovery was made in 1837, by 
Mr. Andrew Crosse, and was first published in detail in the 
Transactions of the London Electrical Society.* Experi- 
ments, tending to the same result, were made in 1841-2 by 
Mr. W. A. Weekes, and published in the same journal, f 

Now, it is not for me to go into a technical examination 
of the experiments by which Mr. Crosse and Mr. Weekes 
were led to the conclusion stated above. It is sufficient, 
and it is far more appropriate, to quote the opinion, on this 
very issue, of men of acknowledged scientific authority. 
The discovery in question is supposed to have been made in 



■were not conspicuous, though all virtually involved in the conditions 
first assigned it; and that the wisdom of the Creator may be shown 
by its gradual development, under the laws He had given, into a state 
receptive of higher modes of being; while every step in the upward 
ascent, from mere matter to the vegetable, from the vegetable to the 
animal, the lower animals to man, from man defectible, and then 
actually fallen, to man redeemed and glorified, needs the immediate 
interposition of the -great Lord and Master of the universe. Such 
is the view implied in the Essay, and more plainly advocated in 
other works of its author; and the attempt to confound it with the 
virtual atheism of the 'Vestiges' evinces a serious defect either of 
Christian candor or critical discernment." {London Christian Ob- 
server, July, 1855, p. 47.) 

* Vol. from 1837 to 1840, p. 11. 

f Vol. from 1841 to 1843, pp. 240, 391. 



§ 268 A MISTAKE. 383 

1838. Since 1842, no additional facts have been educed, 
though the subject has received severe and continued scru- 
tiny on the part of a body of observers, many of them by 
no means prejudiced against the truth of the hypothesis.* 

* Since the above was written, the alleged discoveries of M. Pou- 
chet, Professor of Zoology at Rouen, have been brought to the 
author's notice. M. Pouchet claims to have " seen cryptogams 
and animalcules to be produced in vessels when every organic 
germ has been previously destroyed, and when the air had been 
washed in sulphuric acid or had traversed a tube of porcelain heated 
to a red heat. He has even succeeded in developing organic beings 
in artificial air and also in pure oxygen." The details of one of his 
experiments are as follows : — A flask, holding a litre, was filled with 
boiling water, then hermetically sealed with the greatest precaution, 
then inverted in a mercury trough; then, when the water is cold, it 
was opened under the mercury, and half a litre of pure oxygen in- 
troduced. Immediately after, was added to it, under the mercury, a 
small box of hay weighing ten grammes, which had just been raised 
in a flask, by means of a stove, to a temperature of 100° C, and kept at 
this temperature for thirty minutes. The flask was then hermeti- 
cally sealed by the aid of its stopper ground with emery; and to 
make it sure, when taken from the mercury, a coat of varnish and 
vermilion was put over the aperture. Eight days afterwards, small 
globules were found in the liquid and on the hay. On opening the 
flask at the end of ten days, the oxygen appeared to have remained 
pure. The whitish globules were due to a fungus in tufts, which 
Mr. Montagne, the micrographer, called Aspergillus Pouchelii. 

A plant is thus developed in a medium from which it was endea- 
vored to exclude every species of organic germ ; but the conclusion 
of M. Pouchet is quite too general, as no facts prove that every kind 
of vitality was destroyed during the exposure of the hay for thirty 
minutes to 100° C. 

In addition to this, it is observed, as is mentioned by the journal 



384 acarus crossii : § 269 

Let us see, then, what, after the lapse of twenty years, is 
the accepted conclusion with regard to this phenomenon. 

§ 269. First, let me cite from Mulder's " Chemistry of 
Vegetable and Animal Physiology," of which the edition 
before me is that of Mr. J. F. W. Johnston, published in 
London in 1849, at a period when the alleged "Acarus 
Crossii" was fresh before the scientific eye. "What we 
know," says this author, " of the acarus scabiei, the filaria 
aracunculus, the echino-cocci, and a great many other ento- 
zoa, shows that they may be produced from ordinary organic 
molecules in the animal body, as every small organic globule 
of mucus, for instance, or of milk, or of pus, etc. is formed." 
"The idea of an ovum, therefore, coincides exactly with 
that of an organic molecule; that is, of such a molecule as 
consists of elements which may exhibit themselves under a 
change of circumstances in infinite modifications, may form 
new combinations, attract other elements, incorporate them, 
unite into definite compounds, and thus separate from other 
bodies with which they were originally combined." "The 
idea of an ovum is thus reduced in truth to that of an 
organic molecule ; and the dispute as to equivocal genera- 
tion and epigenesis is at an end."* 

last quoted, that it is shown "by the experiments of Schultze and 
Schwann, as well as by those of Schroeder and Dusch," " that ani- 
mal substances do not ferment when they are inclosed in air which 
has previously traversed a red hot tube," "and that these same sub- 
stances may be preserved indefinitely in air which has previously 
been made to pass through a tube containing cotton." (Silliman's 
Journ., March, 1859, p. 253.) 

* Mulder's Chemistry, etc. Lond. ed., 1849, p. 77-8. 



§ 2Y0-2T1 a mistake. 385 

I have next the third edition of Dr. Carpenter's " Prin- 
ciples of Physiology," issued in London in 1851. " It may 
be considered," says this authoritative writer, " as a funda- 
mental truth of Physiological Science, that every living 
organism has had its origin in a pre-existing organism. 
The doctrine of 'spontaneous generation,' or the supposed 
origination of organized structures de novo, out of assem- 
blages of inorganic particles, although at different times 
sustained with a considerable show of argument, based on a 
specious array of facts, cannot now be said to have any 
claim whatever to be received as even a possible hypothesis ; 
all the facts on which it claimed to rest having been either 
themselves disproved, or having been found satisfactorily 
explicable on the general principle, omne vivum ex ovo."* 

§ 210. Next let us take up a work of great weight and 
authority on the special topic of Infusorial Animalcules, 
published in London in 1851, by Mr. Andrew Pritchard. 
Here, under the title of "the Supposed Method of Manu- 
facturing Infusoria," we have the statement by the author 
that the "creatures said to have been thus brought into ex- 
istence, that have come under my observation, were neither 
the most minute nor the most simple in organization." 
" That some mistake exists with respect to communicating 
vitality to matter by this means, there cannot be a doubt, "f 

§ 2Y1. Take, also, the Micrographic Dictionary, — a work 

* Carp. Phys., ed. Blanchard & Lea, 1851, p. 866. See also re- 
marks of same author on p. 859, in reply to Vestiges of Creation, on 
the subject of animal development. 

f A History of Infusorial Animalcules, etc., by Andrew Pritchard, 
M.R.I. London: Whittaker & Co., 1852, p. 27. 
33 



386 ORGANIC DEVELOPMENT : § 272-273 

of great exactness and beauty, — published in 1856, by 
Messrs. Griffith and Henfrey.* Here we find all the hypo- 
theses of spontaneous generation successively exploded, f 

§ 272. More curt, though not less decisive, is the state- 
ment of M. Agassiz, in his late great work, (1858.) "I do 
not know what physicists may think about them now, (the 
Acari Crossii,) but I know that there is scarcely a zoologist 
who doubts they only exhibited a mistake."! 

§ 273. Passing, however, these authorities, let us notice 
the following points as accounting for the existence of these 
animals without resorting to the hypothesis of non-natural 
generation : — Life in infusoria of this class can be main- 
tained in strong chemical solutions. We have a striking 
illustration of this in Dr. Harvey's contribution to the 
Smithsonian Institute, entitled "Kereis Boreali- Ameri- 
cana," published in 1858. In this elaborate and compre- 
hensive paper occurs the following passage : — "A remark- 
able instance of the action of a minute alga on a chemical 
solution was pointed out to me by Prof. Bache, as occurring 
in the vessels of sulphate of copper kept in the electrotyping 
department of the Coast Survey Office at Washington. A 
slender confervoid alga infests the vats containing sulphate 
of copper, and proves very destructive. It decomposes the 
salt and assimilates the sulphuric acid, rejecting (as indi- 
gestible !) the copper, which is deposited round its threads 
in a metallic form. * * * * Species of the former 

* London: John Van Voorst, 1856. 

f Ibid., pp. 20, 288 ; articles Air, Generation. 

% 1 Contrib. to Nat. Hist. U.S., p. 9. 



§ 2T3 UNSUSTAINED IN FACT. 381 

genus (Oscillatorise) are found even in the boiling waters 
of the Icelandic Geysers. Of the latter (Calothrices) one 
species at least, Galothrix nivea, is very common in hot 
sulphur springs, and I observed it in great plenty in the 
streams running from the inflammable springs at Niagara."* 
Some of the same genus, we are afterwards told, "diffuse 
life" "in the snows of the Polar regions," and on the "Polar 
ice."f 

The creatures produced by Messrs. Crosse and Weekes, 
reproduced themselves, in the same chemical solution, by 
natural generation. If the solution was not strong enough 
to prevent this in the second generation, why was it too 
strong to prevent it in the first? Again, if the parents 
were produced by an electric shock, how is it that the 
pattern struck by the same mechanism and at the same 
blow, varied, in one case a male being produced, and in an- 
other a female ? 

The air contains the eggs or germinal molecules of in- 
numerable forms of animal life, capable of entering into ac- 
tivity whenever they meet with the requisite conditions. If 
the chemical solutions used by Messrs. Crosse and Weekes 
supplied these conditions, as was proved by life afterwards 
continued, the germinating of the Acarus depended only 
upon the question whether the surrounding air was freighted 
with its eggs. That this was probably so is shown by in- 
numerable productions, without the aid of the voltaic bat- 
tery, under similar conditions. 

Yitality may remain dormant for an indefinite period, 

* Dr. Harvey's Nereis Boreali- Americana, p. 6. f Ibid., p. 18. 



388 ORGANIC DEVELOPMENT: §214 

ready to be awaked whenever the proper call arrives. In 
piercing a well in Maine, forty miles from the sea, sand was 
dug up which must have been covered thousands and tens of 
thousands of years. It was scattered on the soil, and in the 
next season there sprung up the beach-plum, a tree peculiar 
to the sea-shore, whose seed must have been covered up with 
the sand. Wheat taken from mummies is well known to 
form now a distinct species. Flies, or insects which have 
been for years dormant in bottles, come to life on exposure 
to the air. Raspberry seed, taken from the stomach of a 
man who was buried seventeen years before, germinated 
when planted.* 

On the "development" hypothesis, these animalcules 
should be monads, or the rudimental types. They are the 
first blows of the " electric force" on matter. But, on the 
contrary, they are very complicated little creatures, neither 
" minute" nor "simple." "If," asks Mr. Walker, on this 
point, with great force, " Mr. Crosse could begin with the 
Articulata and create an Acarus which had no parent, why 
may not the Divine Power accomplish as much ? If Mr. 
Crosse can form both germ and insect by the same process, 
why may not the Divine Power form both germ and 
mammifer ?"f' 

§ 274. Let us pass, however, to the remaining analogies 
relied on by the author of the "Vestiges of Creation." 

62. The tad-pole "develops," he tells us, into a "frog;" 
forgetting this change is the growth of each individual of 

* Carpenter's Physiology, p. 75. 
f God Revealed in Creation, p. 105. 



§ 2T4 HOW REFUTED. 389 

the frog species, and not the progressive ascent of the spe- 
cies itself. It would be just as correct to cite the accession 
of individual beards as a proof of the " development" of the 
human race. 

c 2 . To the larva and the butterfly the same remark is 
applicable. 

d 2 . The working bee, which may be transformed into the 
queen bee, on a particular change of diet, is merely an illus- 
tration of a bifurcate structure in a particular species. The 
character of a species, to be complete, must include all its 
forms ; and from this aggregate, in order to be a develop- 
ment, there must be an ascent. Now, in the case of the 
queen bee, there is but a subordinate modification, not a 
general ascent. 

e 2 . Cultivated plants and tame animals. Here there is 
no development, but merely a modification ; and the plant 
or animal, if excluded from human care, reverts back to its 
original type. 

After considering these points, which are all that the de- 
fenders of organic development have adduced, we may well 
concur in the position of Dr. Carpenter, "that no higher 
type has ever originated through an advance in develop- 
mental powers ; for although various instances have been 
brought forward to justify the assertion that such is pos- 
sible, yet these instances entirely fail to establish the analogy 
that is sought to be drawn from them."* 

* Carpenter's Physiology, p. 869. See also on this point an in- 
teresting article by Professor Dana, in Biblioth. Sac. for 1846, p. 
100-2. 

33* 



390 "development:" § 275-2Y8 

b. General propositions by which this theory can 

BE MET. 

§275. a 1 . No progressive cosmical development. 

There is no progressive cosmical development. The 
transformations of the globe, to which geology bears wit- 
ness, were not symmetrical and gradual, but exceptional 
and convulsive, involving a break of continuity, and a new 
arrangement of the material before existing.* 

§276. b l . Premeditation preceded creation. 

There is evidence of premeditation prior to creation. 
Every prior type is an anticipation of that which is to suc- 
ceed ; all point back to an original comprehensive design 
and omnipotent and omniscient designer. "Enough has 
been already said," is the calm summary of Agassiz, "to 
show that the leading thought which runs through the suc- 
cessions of all organized beings in past ages is manifested 
again in new, in the phases of the development of living 
representatives of these different types. It exhibits every- 
where the working of the same creative mind, through all 
time and upon the whole surface of the globe."f 

§ 277. c\ New forms of life introduced at distinct 
periods. 

We have specific proof of the introduction at precise 
periods not only of new forms of animal life, but of the 
reapplication of life itself. J 

§ 278. d l . Advance sometimes broken by retrogression. 

* See ante, \ 79, 173. 

f Essay on Classification, p. 116. See ante, \ 32-35. 

% See ante, \ 78-9. See also Silliman's Journal, 1858, pp. 204-5. 



§ 2T9 HOW REFUTED. 391 

As the terraces of geology ascend, and higher types ap- 
pear, this superior order is broken in upon by an increased 
number of abnormal and degraded shapes.* 

§ 2*79. e\ The rudimental atoms themselves prove con- 
trivance. 

The rudimental atoms are impressed to an eminent de- 
gree with the marks of a Creator. We have fifty-four or 
fifty-five substances which are indivisible and final, and 
which form the individual syllables of which the great book 
of nature is made up. But each one of these syllables 
shows a contrivance whose exquisiteness appears the more 
vividly as we contemplate the vast number of combinations 
to which they are adapted. First we have, as the marshal- 
ing agents of these atoms, three primary physical forces — 
polarization, chemical affinity, and cohesion. Then we find, 
as the manual by which these marshaling agents are to act, 
laws prescribing certain proportions, definite as to num- 
ber and weight, in which alone these atoms unite, f In the 
august economy and simplicity by which these elements, in 
the various combinations of which they are capable, are 
made to serve the almost infinite purposes of cosmical crea- 
tion, we may find additional reason for concurring in the 
remarks of Sir John Herschel : — " These discoveries effec- 
tually destroy the idea of an external self-existent matter, 



* See Hugh Miller, Foot-Prints of the Creator, p. 192, etc. See 
also the theological bearings of these phenomena very strikingly 
depicted by Dr. Bushnell, Nature and the Supernat., p. 208. 

f Thus oxygen and nitrogen are constructed as follows : — 14 of 
oxygen to 8 of hydrogen : 14—24; 14—32; 14—40. 



392 " development:" §280-282 

by giving to each of its atoms at once the essential cha- 
racteristics of a manufactured article and a subordinate 
agent."* 

§ 280. f 1 . This primary care presumes a continuing 
Providence. 

If we assume, as does the development hypothesis, that 
each of these atoms contains the generative apparatus for 
the production of all future forms of life, then not only is 
the argument from contrivance indefinitely strengthened by 
the exhibition of so transcendently wonderful an appara- 
tus, but we have increased energy given to the argument 
for a continuing special Providence. Is it probable that a 
God with wisdom, forethought, goodness, and power enough 
to construct such marvelously delicate and beneficent me- 
f chanisms, should, after the creative work is done, retire from 
the work of guiding and guarding that which was thus care- 
fully made ?f 

§ 281. g 1 . Physical forces involving a director. 

Physical forces, themselves incapable of action unless 
directed by intelligence, have from time to time operated 
"to work out a condition of things which evince the pre- 
siding agency of the Divine mind, adjusting all the changes 
from first to last in view of a future definite end. "J 

§ 282. h\ Creations exhibiting reciprocal adaptations. 

Creations, widely distinct in time, and having no connec- 



* See God Revealed in Creation, p. 32, by Mr. Walker, a book to 
which the reader is referred, as containing an able elucidation of 
this special topic. 

f See ante, \ 234-5. % Walker's God Revealed in Creation, p. 78. 



§ 283-284 how refuted. 393 

tion as to organic life, so fit in and adapt themselves to each 
other as to make one the complement of the other. Take, 
as an illustration of this, the juxtaposition, through the 
agency of widely separate creations, of coal, lime, and iron, 
in those neighborhoods and climate, where they would be 
most needed and most likely to be worked.* 

§ 283. i 1 . "Development" makes "matter," create 
"mind." 

The development hypothesis, like pantheism, involves the 
absurdity of matter creating mind.f 

§ 284. h 1 . A first cause still remains. 

The clock that goes a hundred years, requires winding 
up as much as one that goes a day. There is this distinc- 
tion, however. The argument from contrivance increases 
as we increase the period during which the clock runs with- 
out being rewound. 

"lS~or can any such theory," says the author of the G-rey- 
son letters, "really affect the question of Theism at all ; if, 
indeed, such rare 'transformations,' and 'transmutations,' 
and 'developments' of organized beings, as it supposes, 
(were there but any proof of them,) ought not rather to 
enhance the proof of Divine power and intelligence. Surely 
such transmutations not less require power and intelligence 
than the received hypothesis of successive creations ; for, 
even if the elements of the material universe, if matter 
itself, be supposed eternal, it can never be proved that the 
properties and laws in virtue of which it has been ' deve- 
loped' into such wondrous results inherently belong to it ; 

* See ante, § 70. f See ante, \ 260. 



394 " DEVELOPMENT." §284 

or that if some properties did belong to it, a chance med- 
ley combination or blindly necessary application of them 
would make such a symmetrical and harmonious universe. 
If A, B, and C be all stamped by their respective signatures 
of design, it were strange to suppose that that inference is 
invalidated, because C came from B, and B from A." 

The " churn" by which the fluid of the milky- way is made 
up into stars, requires the application of an intelligent 
motive power, at least as much as if those stars were worked 
up by hand. 

The " monad" that contains the germs of all future exist- 
ences of the same family, shows a care at least as minute, a 
prevision at least as searching, a scheme of government at 
least as comprehensive, as is exhibited in a special conti- 
nuous providence, giving to each birth its impulse, and each 
event its particular direction. 

The author of the "Vestiges of Creation" himself, is 
careful — and it is believed sincerely — to disavow the anti- 
theistic inferences so generally attributed to his scheme. In 
point of fact, he himself finds an original motive power 
essential to make "development," more plausible. "The 
electric spark," he tells us, " struck life into an elementary 
and reproductive germ; and sea-plants, the food of animals, 
first decked the rude pavement of the sea."* 

* Observe on this point, the following passage from the " West- 
minster Review" for April, 1858, which may be considered as 
abandoning the whole of the anti-theistic inference from the de- 
velopment hypothesis : — " It remains only to point out that while the 
genesis of the solar system, and of countless other systems like it, is 



§ 284 " DEVELOPMENT. " 395 

thus rendered comprehensible, the ultimate mystery continues as 
great as ever. The problem of existence is not solved ; it is simply 
removed farther back. The nebular hypothesis throws no light upon 
the origin of diffused matter; and diffused matter needs as much 
accounting for as concrete matter. The genesis of an atom is not 
easier to conceive than the genesis of a planet. Nay, indeed, so far 
from making the universe less wonderful than before, it makes it 
more wonderful. Creation by manufacture, is a much lower thing, 
than creation by evolution. A man can put together a machine, but 
he cannot make a machine develop itself. The ingenious artisan, 
able as some have been so far to imitate vitality as to produce a 
mechanical piano-forte player, may in some sort conceive how, by 
greater skill, a complete man might be artificially produced; but he 
is totally unable to conceive how such a complex organism gradually 
arises out of a minute structureless germ. That our harmonious 
universe once existed potentially as formless diffused matter, and has 
slowly grown into its present organized state, is a far more astonish- 
ing fact than would have been its formation after the artificial 
method vulgarly supposed. The nebular hypothesis implies a first 
cause as much transcending 'the mechanical god of Paley,' as this 
does the fetish of the savage." 



